Of all the challenges in sport the Tour de France must rank as one of the most gruelling. Taking place over three weeks every July, a select group of the world's leading male cyclists gather to attempt more than 2,200 miles of road taking in two of Europe's highest mountain ranges.
Behind the effortless imagery of riders zipping along as one peloton on a sunny French afternoon lies the pain and suffering, and the months of preparation focused solely on performing in this one race. All of that work can be snatched away in an instant, as happened last year when arguably GB's finest ever prospect for winning the coveted yellow jersey, Bradley Wiggins, crashed out.
It is with all this in mind, the pain, danger and glory, that I set out to find my own small piece of cycling legend earlier this year. For some time now I have stood idly by and watched friends and colleagues take on marathons, triathlons, even Ironmans. The time felt right to join the endurance challenge bandwagon and what better way than by doing it sitting down.
The Etape du Tour has run since 1993 alongside the big event itself. It is the amateur cyclists chance to attempt just one stage of the 21 or so that the professionals manage to cover in almost as many consecutive days. Thousands try it each year and thousands fail. For 2012 the organisers have opted for two of the hardest mountain stages featuring in the Tour - a 152km Alpine assault from Albertville to La Toussire-les-Sybelles, and an epic 201km journey through the Pyrenees.
Beating off competition for a place, my mind and body took on a whole new reawakening in January as I digested the news that I had successfully got onto Act 1 of the Etape in the Alps. Aside from commuting to work and the odd lap of Richmond Park in London I had little serious miles in my legs up to that point. At 6'3" in height, my body also felt a long way from ever being capable of feeling like the streamlined Wiggins or the light stepping of climbers like the late Pantani.
The past five months have literally flown by like a Cavendish lead out train and there is all but 6 weeks remaining for the final training sessions. I have clocked in the region of 1500 miles since the start, mostly on trips out of London to the hills of Surrey and the South Downs. It hasn't always been easy, warm or dry, and I now have a particular dislike of Thursdays as they will forever be associated with Swain's Lane hill repeats, but I now finally feel fit for the first time in my life. Not just physically too, the hours on the bike at weekends have been an ideal time to put everything else going on in my life into place.
Despite all the long arduous hours of training, pints spurned and early nights, I have managed to keep a certain sense of perspective on my journey. Several years ago now my cousin woke in a bed in a military hospital to be told that he had triggered an IED whilst leading a patrol in Afghanistan. The surgeons had managed to save the badly damaged arm that took the brunt of the explosion but he was told they were not able to save his legs.
Nick's road to recovery has taken countless operations and extensive time in rehabilitation learning to use his stumps to be able to walk again. Life dealt him a horrific hand but somehow he saw it as an opportunity. Not content where others might just accept their fate, he has gone on in the three years since to take up rowing and now represents Team GB in their Paralympic rowing squad. He is a true inspiration.
I will be riding the Etape in aid of Help for Heroes, to support those like Capt Nick Beighton and help wounded soldiers live fulfilling lives. For more information please visit: http://www.bmycharity.com/etape