I entered the Circuit of Kent cycle-sportive with no targets, no ambitions and no pre-conceptions – other than I needed to finish and post a time. And that I did.

The south-east sportive, this year with more than 800 entrants, has both a 80km and 130km option – after four months in the saddle I took my bow with the former – through quiet, undulating Kentish lanes.

Before the ride I wrote of my pre-sportive nerves after a half-cooked summer of sport but the day itself soon came about and the time for pedalling instead of typing was upon this novice.

After a breakfast of porridge and toast, and with home-made flapjack and a banana stuffed into my jersey pockets, I made the 40 minute drive to Sevenoaks Preparatory School.

Fuelled and fired-up, I registered, zip-tied my number and timing chip to my ‘bars and made for the start.

Even at 9am, the day promised to be warm and sunny and, as I joined the hundreds of riders waiting to start, it was anticipation not fear that filled the air.

I zipped away from the start and the first few kilometres were a blur until I attached myself to the back of a group of half-a-dozen on the first climb of the day to Roughway. The descent that followed was long, fast and silky-smooth, topping out at 35.8mph.

A series of testing hills in the opening 25km led to spectacular views over the Kent countryside – patchwork farmland glinting under the gaze of a perfect early-Autumn blue sky.

Converted oast houses, hop fields, country pubs and small villages all set the scene as the Garden of England proved true to its name. 

With Richard’s advice in mind, I stuck with this group, preparing for a forthcoming trip to the French Alps, despite the relaxed pace but soon made off in pursuit of the group in front.

But, despite the pace being more akin to my ambitions, the trio of friends suffered two dropped chains in five minutes and I was left to go my own way again.

Before setting off, I had, in my mind, relied on finding a good group to set a solid pace, but, with only 30km of the 80km gone, the ride became a solo event with few groups in sight, instead working to overtake single riders while being passed by others.

A 15 minute break at the feed after 43km left me refuelled but, with winds gusting across the open countryside, the speed of the first section was replaced by a lone slog on a course which features just shy of 3000ft of climbing.

With 15km to go, fatigue set in and an emergency pit-stop was in order for a quick stretch and dose of flapjack to prepare for the final furlong. 

But the problem with the Circuit of Kent, whatever route you take, is that you spend the 95 per cent of the distance knowing, in the back of your mind at least, that the worst is yet to come.

One Tree Hill was everything I expected and more. I had been glued in the small ring for the final 10km, trying to ease out any stiffness that remained in my legs from before my second stop.

As Mill Lane turned into Carter’s Hill – as One Tree Hill is marked on the map – the road rears up for the drag to the village of Underriver, where a brief lull in gradient provides respite ahead of the final ascent.

The road was already a scene of destruction. I joined zig-zagging riders attempting to ease the gradient, dodging the many who had already abandoned their steed and taken to two legs.

As a sting in the tail goes, One Tree Hill is sharp and spiteful – but not short. An Alpine ascent it is not but, at a mile long and topping out at somewhere near 20 per cent, it is enough to test the mettle of any tired rider.

I shifted into bottom gear (39-25) early and stamped on the pedals, able to sit for short sections before straining every sinew while standing to maintain momentum.

A left bend left me ready to unclip but, on the other side, the top was nigh and a short burst to the top brought the climb to an end.

True to form, what goes up, must come down and, with the promise of home just around the corner, a short downhill section allowed some ego-boasting pace for the final furlong, despite the on-set of cramp following the stark change in cadence.

Lunch and the soft tones of a jazz band in the school courtyard greeted the hoards of riders as they rolled home, ready to while away the rest of the afternoon in the September sunshine.

So what did I clock? Three hours, 35 minutes, stops included. Not Earth shattering, nor ground breaking – even quite poor by most standards. But for a first attempt, with only a few hundred miles under my belt, and with a non-stop ascent of One Tree Hill in the bag, it’s something to beat – and I had a great time to boot.  

Riding pics by www.sportivephoto.com