'Savage reality' - What happened when a downhill world champion took on the UK's hardest road sportive

Over the last 30 years of racing bikes I have tried most things off-road, but never fancied a road race and still to this day I don’t – but I have discovered enjoyment in a challenge on my road bike.

It started with a secret invitation to surprise a good friend for her birthday to join in a 200km Audax, then Chase the Sun South last year and now this year’s bucket list event, the Fred Whitton Challenge, based in the Lake District in the north of the UK.

Tracy Moseley

Tracy Moseley is a former downhill mountain bike world champion and World Cup winner, as well as a multiple national champion. She describes her first experience of riding this year's Fred Whitton Challenge – her first major road sportive.

I had heard people talk about the ‘Fred’ as being tough, and having never ridden all the climbs in the Lakes it seemed like a good opportunity to piece together my geography of the area and ride all the passes in one go.

Bike riding for me has become so many things over the years, from being my job and career, my passion and escape, and now my 'me time' and connection with many of my amazing friends.

As you get older and time becomes more precious, making things like this a priority become more important. This event not only got me and Wendy – one of my best friends from uni – to ride the Fred together but also plan to meet up and ride together once a month in 2025, having barely ridden bikes together since having kids.

Living two-and-a-half hours apart and having busy lives, we only managed two rides together in that time, squeezing in a drive to Sheffield, a four-hour ride, and back for my son's bedtime, but it was two more rides than we would have done without saying 'yes' to the Fred.

We were also joined by Cheri, a good friend from my UK enduro racing days who was always up for an adventure.

Our preparation was very different, but I knew we all had grit, determination and ability to complete a challenge like this. I don’t follow any training programme these days and often have to be flexible with what time I have.

I have more focus on my e-bike this year, so my road bike preparation over the last four months had been a few club runs, a 50-mile reliability trial, a few two or three-hour rides and as much practice at riding out of the saddle as possible. This was off the back of some great advice from legend Isla Rowntree when I asked her what I should know about the Fred.

She just said, "Make sure you can stand and climb for a long time."

I did a few rides in the Alps on the family Easter holiday and one 100-miler seven days before the big day – probably not the smartest move as I was tired after that and got knee pain for the first time ever.

However, I knew from experience that as long as I ate and drank all day, and I took all the spares I may need, I could keep going for a long time and most likely make it.

Years of racing enduro and now being a mum, my self-sufficiency and packing for all eventualities may have not helped us go fast. Between the three of us I think we had enough food supplies, spare clothing, first aid items and spares to ride for seven days, not just one.

For more on eating on the bike, check out our article on nutrition for cycling.

However, we didn’t go hungry, or get cold, and I fixed a slash in the sidewall of my rear tyre without any help, so I think we were prepared.

Having spent my career racing mountain bike downhill and enduro, the thought of a big day out on the bike wasn’t so strange, but sharing the road with 2,500 other people was definitely a new experience. I am used to racing just me against the clock, so even though it wasn’t a race and I had no expectations of winning, it was still hard to set off from a start line and not want to go full gas and race everyone around me.

Thankfully, there was no chance of that as after only 20 minutes the first climb began and quickly I realised I was going to be out of the saddle a lot, and trying to find an easier gear that wasn't there.

This first 40 miles was relatively pleasant going, the climbing wasn't too steep and we negotiated the riders and traffic without incident. However riding among that many people and also with open roads on a busy sunny weekend in the Lakes we did encounter a lot of traffic and some people were definitely more in a rush than we were.

Honister Pass, at 42 miles in, brought home the savage reality of what was ahead and although only short, it had a super-steep kick at the start which was brutal and my first taste of really steep climbing on a road bike. Up till now the steep climbing I have done in the past – even on the road – had always been done on a mountain bike with a much bigger range of gears.

The first feed station was welcome but sharing with hundreds of others, the toilet and water queue was long and it was easy to lose lots of time which then made getting going again feel even harder.

The spectators on Whinlatter Pass were ace and I felt like I was climbing a stage of the Tour de France for a moment. We were then rewarded by a lovely long descent and great undulating riding on the west side of the Lakes. It was a lovely approach eating away some miles to our next feed station and the dreaded hills to come. Having never driven or ridden over Hardknott Pass I didn’t know what to expect, but suddenly up ahead was a snaking line of ants on bikes, going up, up and up. It was an awesome, but slightly daunting, sight.

On turning the corner over the cattle grid to start the climb, the guy I had been chatting with just stopped and got off his bike. Then the next person I passed was off and pushing, and the next and the next, with shoes off, walking in their socks with shoes hanging from the handlebars… I was not expecting this.

My overly competitive and stubborn nature was not going to allow me to get off and be defeated by a hill, so the next 20 minutes or so were torturous.

I kept forcing one foot down on the pedal, one after the other, bent so far over the handlebars I was nearly chewing my front tyre, while feeling like my arms were about to rip the handlebars off as I hauled them from side to side.

My legs were burning, my triceps and core were on fire, and my breathing so intense I felt like I was back trying to give birth to a child for a few moments near the top.

But I made it up all the way and felt a little sense of pride in my achievement… little did I know I still had another beastly climb and then the ride back to Grasmere to survive as Cheri, still feeling fresh as a daisy, started to turn the screw to try and get back in under eight hours on her Garmin ride time.

In the end, wow. We made it, with a lot of stoppages, in an official time of 9hr 27min.

A true big day out, great sense of achievement, a new love for the Lake District and memories made for life. Thanks to the Fred Whitton for making my life that bit more rich and fulfilled. If it's not on your bucket list, get it on there.