BHF London to
Brighton 2023

Why I Did This

I needed to convince people that Race the Ship was possible. The idea of racing a tall ship 197 miles from Great Yarmouth to London with a mixed-ability team was already conceived. What I didn't have was proof. Not proof for anyone else. Proof for myself.

I signed up for the BHF London to Brighton on June 18, 2023. 54 miles. I had been a full-time wheelchair user for 19 years. I had rebuilt my leg muscles from scratch over the previous months, self-adapting a cheap hybrid bike so I could ride with joints that sublux and dislocate constantly. There was no training programme. There was no support crew. There was just the question of whether this was possible and the only way to answer it.

What the Ride Was Actually Like

When people picture the London to Brighton ride, they see a cyclist gliding along scenic roads, the wind at their back, enjoying the open road. That is the perception. Here is the reality.

By mile 10, pain had settled in and taken over. By mile 50 it was at 9.5 out of 10 and holding. This ride was not about pedalling from point A to B. It was knowing exactly what I was walking into, fully aware of the suffering that was coming, and doing it anyway. The physical endurance was one challenge. The mental demand of managing a body in that state, mile after mile, for four hours and 45 minutes, was the real test.

The physical breakdown, mile by mile

Intestinal pain arrived early. The first 25 miles produced intense left-side pain; the following 20 shifted to the right. Nausea was constant throughout, never escalating to vomiting but never relenting. GI distress forced pit stops approximately every 18 miles as the carbohydrate load triggered a severe Crohn's-like flare in a gut that cannot process standard nutrition volumes.

My left hip spasmed and subluxed repeatedly. My left hand locked into spasm, which made gear shifting and braking close to impossible in the final miles. My right shoulder, already damaged from Snowdon nine months earlier, flared with every push of the handlebars. Both feet burned with CRPS throughout: each pedal stroke sent nerve pain through the feet and lower legs from start to finish.

Every mile was managed. None of it stopped.

The Fuelling Problem

My body cannot preload carbohydrates. More than 50g in a day risks a GI flare. More than 100g and the system goes into full revolt. For a 54-mile ride requiring sustained output over nearly five hours, there was no clean option. I was force-feeding a body that rejects food, managing severe Gastroparesis and Dysphagia at every fuel stop. Every sip and every bite was painful, calculated, and necessary.

I paid for every gram of that on the days that followed. I knew I would before I started.

The Aftermath

Crossing the finish line was not the end. It was the start of the reckoning.

Left hand: total loss of dexterity and fine motor control. Right hand: 60% loss of function. Both wrists severely compromised. Right thigh and knee: significant damage from the Ditchling Beacon ascent. Right shoulder: 40% mobility loss. GI system: a week-long supercharged Crohn's-like flare that was inevitable and accounted for in advance.

None of this was a surprise. The consequences were known before the start line. The decision was made anyway.

What It Proved

Three months after this ride I completed 197 miles over 4.5 days for Race the Ship. The BHF London to Brighton is the data point that made Race the Ship credible. Without it, the progression from 19 years in a wheelchair to 197 miles is missing its intermediate reference point.

The Prosthetic Physiology framework held for 4 hours 45 minutes across 54 miles on a body generating 9.5 out of 10 pain, with GI failure mid-ride and hand spasm in the final miles. That was the answer to the question the ride was designed to answer.