In a few weeks’ time, I’m joining the Myeloma UK London to Paris Ride — a 450 km cycling challenge that’s equal parts inspiring, exhausting, and (if my legs have anything to say about it) slightly questionable decision-making.
But there’s a serious purpose behind the saddle soreness.
By supporting this ride, you’ll help Myeloma UK go further, faster in their mission to find a cure. They are the only organisation in the UK dedicated exclusively to myeloma, funding vital research, fighting for access to new treatments, and providing support so that no one has to face this disease alone. Quite simply, they don’t hang about — patients drive everything they do, and their urgency is contagious (in a good way).
Now, onto the ride itself.
This isn’t just a leisurely pootle to the nearest café. We’ll be riding in a full peloton (yes, just like the Tour de France — minus the TV helicopters and plus a lot more snack stops). The experience is pretty special: motorcycle outriders, rolling road closures, and support crews mean we cycle safely without dodging traffic lights or white vans in a hurry.
There are even skilled mechanics on hand (thankfully) and sports osteopaths (even more thankfully), so if anything creaks, groans, or falls off — whether bike or rider — help is close by.
After four days and 450 km, we’ll roll into Paris together as one united peloton — tired, triumphant, and probably in desperate need of a pastry the size of a dinner plate.
Every mile ridden helps accelerate progress. Every pound raised helps push closer to a cure. And every slightly ridiculous tan line tells a story.
My personal challenge (because clearly 450 km wasn’t enough…)
Alongside the cycling, I’ll be managing a second endurance event: type 1 diabetes, which I’ve been living with since 1972. Yes — I know — vintage model.
Balancing diabetes during long-distance cycling is a bit like spinning plates while riding a bike… which, come to think of it, is exactly what I’ll be doing. It’s a constant juggling act of carbs, insulin, and energy levels — trying to keep blood sugar within the “just right” zone while burning through energy at pace.
Too much fuel? Not ideal. Too little? Also not ideal. Too much insulin? You get the picture. It’s a delicate balancing act that requires planning, monitoring, and occasionally eating emergency snacks with the urgency of someone who really shouldn’t have skipped that second banana.
Why this ride? Why now?
One of the biggest reasons I signed up (aside from the small detail that if you know Deb Gascoyne, saying “no” isn’t really an option) is the incredible progress that’s been made in myeloma treatment in recent years.
There have been genuine breakthroughs — the kind that change lives. But there’s still a long way to go, and that progress depends on funding.
That’s where this ride comes in.
I’m riding as part of Deb’s #QuarterOfAMillion team, supporting her ambitious goal to raise £250,000 for Myeloma UK. Deb was diagnosed in 2009 and has been fundraising ever since — not just to support research, but as a way of taking control and helping others facing the same diagnosis.
It’s a powerful reminder of why this matters.
The training (or: how I said goodbye to lie-ins and hello to Lycra)
Preparation has, unsurprisingly, involved a lot of cycling. I’ve joined a local club, which means Sunday mornings now start early and involve hills. Lots of hills.
What began as manageable rides has already stretched to around 75 km, with distances steadily increasing as May approaches. Apparently, this is what people mean when they say “it gets easier” — although I’m still waiting for that bit.
To mix things up (and keep my legs from filing a formal complaint), I’ve added swimming, yoga, and aerobics into the routine. And — perhaps the greatest sacrifice of all — I’ve temporarily given up alcohol.
Yes, really.
Will all this make me live longer? Hard to say. But it certainly feels like it… even if some mornings feel like I’ve aged about ten years overnight.
The finish line
The ride takes place from 14th–18th May — four days, 450 km, and one unforgettable finish in Paris.
Let’s just hope that March winds and April showers really do bring forth May flowers… and not headwinds.
If you’d like to support this challenge and help Myeloma UK continue their incredible work, you can donate here: https://ride.myeloma.org.uk/tim-robbins
And remember — thanks to Gift Aid, every £1 you donate gets a helpful boost from the government at no extra cost to you. Which is one of the few times in life where everyone wins.