One afternoon I sat in the pub looking at a road atlas and said to my mates: “John O’Groats to Land’s End — all 11 and three quarter inches of it — I can do that!”

We’d just finished cycling 15 miles along the North Downs in Kent, the winter sun was out and I felt quite lively.

Six months later and with a mighty gale buffeting me as I stood at John O’Groats, I wasn’t quite so sure. Why had I decided to try to do it in ten days? Why had I thought I could do this unsupported? The rain dripped off my nose as I stood with my back to the Orkneys, clicked into my pedals and started the journey.

The route I had planned worked out at 964 miles; I had pre-booked my accommodation and organised travel back home from Penzance. My journey south would take me through the best scenery this country had to offer.

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Adrenalin got me through day one: all the planning, e-mails and route maps were out of the way and finally I could just ride.

The minor roads through Scotland were stunning, bordered by lochs and mountains. The light flashed across the hills delivering a different mood with each mile.

But I quickly found that the key to cycling a long distance like this was not to overestimate your ability. Having cruised — wind assisted in places — through day one I woke on the morning of day two and could not move. I had never cycled 100 miles before, let alone nearly a thousand. As I rolled off the bed on to my kit and tried to pull on my shorts without bending, I realised my training had been a little light.

In training, I averaged 100 miles a week, thinking if I could cycle 20 miles I could easily do 100. But doing the same again for another eight days was an altogether different matter.

Wishing I had chosen to do the South Downs way or the Devon coast to coast, I set off for Fort William. The constant changes of surface, texture, bumps and cobbles were transmitted through the bike and nearly had me in tears at times. My legs didn’t work, my back was killing me, my hands were numb and my backside . . .

But as you cycle long-distance routes you rise above the pain. It becomes secondary to the beauty of the experience. The main thing that assails your senses on this wonderful route is scent. Cruising through the Scottish countryside you get the salty North Sea, then heather and peat.

As you move into England you are engulfed by lush leafiness and mown grass, while down through the industrial North West you get your first hit of pollution. Through Cheshire and Shropshire, the air was thick with strawberries, through Somerset, honeysuckle. And finally the warm salt of the sea air in Cornwall.

I found the therapeutic effect of endurance cycling amazing. When the pain in my body was at its peak, the rhythmic action of cycling allowed me to realise and release the stresses in my life. It was a kind of catharsis. Spinning the pedals, focusing completely on the fluid motion of my legs, forced me to relax.

In its masochistic simplicity cycling gave me the freedom to dig deep inside my mind and body and discover a strength I never knew I had.