Scraping the Bottom of the Marketplace Barrel There is a raw, unfiltered honesty in grassroots racing. It does not care about your pristine carbon, your electronic shifting, or your bank account. To prove this, four riders from the Global Cycling Network set out with a strict £750 budget and a mission to scour the chaotic depths of online classifieds. They needed to find second-hand machines capable of surviving a full-gas criterium. No high-tech backup vans, no factory sponsors—just grit, haggling, and whatever Craigslist or Facebook Marketplace threw their way. Nostalgia Meets Carbon Fiber in the Parking Lot When the machines finally assembled, the stark contrast in strategies became immediately clear. One rider opted for a classic 2014 Cannondale SuperSix Evo, a rim-brake purist's dream purchased for £650. Connor Dunne rolled up with a 2009 BMC SLC01, a legendary pro-team workhorse built with quirky frame geometry, bought for £567. Then came the shocker: Ollie Bridgewood somehow nabbed a 2016 Storck Aernario Platinum—an £11,000 superbike in its prime—for exactly £750. Meanwhile, Alex Paton pushed the boundaries of the rules. Instead of buying fresh, he pulled his own 20-year-old Trek Madone out of his garage loft, pocketing the cash and banking on historical pedigree. This ancient Trek, once the weapon of choice for grand tour campaigns, sported retro lines and a mechanical Shimano 105 group set mixed with a classic Dura-Ace chainset. Surviving the Winds of a Full-Gas Crit The local crit race started flat out under a punishing, windy evening sky. Criteriums are brutal; they demand instant acceleration out of tight corners and absolute trust in your rubber. Early on, the race exposed every shortcut. Ollie, despite riding his premium Storck superbike with electronic gears, lost contact with the bunch after a lap and a half. His legs simply had nowhere to hide. Connor faced a different nightmare. He could not trust his narrow, worn-out tires. Every tight corner became a terrifying slide, forcing him to waste precious energy chasing back onto the wheels after every turn. Soon, the big red BMC also drifted out of contention. Only the Cannondale and Alex's retro Trek managed to stay in the thick of the action, redlining inside the draft, hiding from the brutal headwind that felt like riding into a solid brick wall. Old Iron Takes the Final Sprint As the race entered its final phase, a breakaway snapped off the front. Neither of the surviving budget bikes had the raw horsepower to bridge the gap, leaving them to fight a private duel for mid-pack honor. It was Cannondale versus Trek, a head-to-head battle of nostalgic engineering. Rounding the final corner, the physical toll of the race was absolute. The Cannondale rider's legs were completely dead. Alex, recovering from a near-disastrous block behind a slower rider, found a sliver of open tarmac. He launched a patient, tactical sprint, tapping past on the line to claim victory for the two-decade-old Trek Madone. Both bikes finished in the top ten of an elite local race, averaging a blistering 43.8 kilometers per hour. True Performance is Forged, Not Purchased This experiment cut straight through the marketing noise of the modern cycling industry. You do not need a five-figure carbon frame or wireless shifting to compete. While worn-out tires will ruin your day, a well-maintained, twenty-year-old frame with decent mechanical components can still mix it up in the fast lane. The race proved that the engine matters infinitely more than the machine. True performance is forged in the legs and the lungs, not swiped on a credit card.
Alex Paton
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Feb 2026 • 1 videos
Lighter month. Global Cycling Network covered Alex Paton across 1 videos.
Mar 2026 • 2 videos
High activity month for Alex Paton. Global Cycling Network among the most active voices, with 2 videos across 1 sources.
Apr 2026 • 1 videos
Lighter month. Global Cycling Network covered Alex Paton across 1 videos.
May 2026 • 2 videos
High activity month for Alex Paton. Global Cycling Network among the most active voices, with 2 videos across 1 sources.
Jun 2026 • 2 videos
High activity month for Alex Paton. Global Cycling Network among the most active voices, with 2 videos across 1 sources.
Jul 2026 • 2 videos
High activity month for Alex Paton. Global Cycling Network among the most active voices, with 2 videos across 1 sources.
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The shadow of AR Strong The Road Records Association (RRA) acts as a quiet guardian of British cycling history, maintaining a ledger of point-to-point speed records that many modern riders have long forgotten. The GCN "Super Nerds"—Si Richardson, Alex Paton, and Ollie Bridgewood—decided to target a particularly stubborn benchmark: the Cardiff-to-Monmouth-and-back record. Set in 1975 by AR Strong of the Redmond Cycling Club, the time to beat was 3 hours, 12 minutes, and 38 seconds. At first glance, an average speed of 36.25 km/h seemed trivial for a trio equipped with the latest carbon fiber technology and aerodynamic integration. However, history has a way of hiding the true difficulty of its achievements behind modest numbers. Modern tech meets ancient infrastructure To bridge the 51-year gap, the team relied on a suite of high-performance gear that AR Strong could only dream of. They utilized Hunt wheels, specifically the Aerodynamicist 5458 and the Super Bling 5 a.m. Limitless models, designed to slice through the air with minimal drag. To maintain cohesion, they wore Sena BCOM 20 communication devices, allowing for real-time tactical adjustments. Yet, despite wax chains, ceramic bearings, and skinsuits, they faced a obstacle that didn't exist in 1975: the sheer proliferation of traffic control. The UK has seen an explosion from 10,000 traffic lights in the mid-seventies to roughly 400,000 today. The team’s "Traffic Light Impact Mitigation Strategy"—which essentially boiled down to mastering track stands to avoid unclipping—proved more humorous than effective as the urban sprawl of Cardiff and Newport began to swallow their time buffer. The grueling reality of the open road Once clear of the urban centers, the narrative shifted from technical frustration to physical exhaustion. A 25 km/h block headwind turned the push toward Monmouth into a grueling slog. While the team hoped to maintain 280-320 watts, the wind demanded more. Ollie Bridgewood began to suffer visibly, eventually losing contact with the group as the pace intensified. This highlighted the brutal efficiency of the original record holder; AR Strong performed his feat solo, likely wearing a wool jersey on a steel-framed bike with narrow tires. As Michael Broadwith, an RRA record legend, pointed out, the historical context is everything. While modern riders have better gear, they must contend with vastly more complex road networks and the loss of "helpful" draft opportunities from slower-moving vintage lorries. A mechanical and physiological blackout The return leg from Monmouth saw the team enter a literal and figurative blackout. As their on-board cameras died and the support crew fell behind in traffic, the riders were left to battle their own physiology. Ollie Bridgewood struggled with full-body cramping, clinging to the wheels of Si Richardson and Alex Paton as they surged to an average of 42.5 km/h on the open stretches. The irony of the situation became clear: the very traffic lights they dreaded on the way out became moments of salvation on the way back, providing brief seconds for the struggling riders to catch their breath and rejoin the paceline. It was a desperate scramble against a clock that was ticking toward 51 years of dominance. The math of failure and respect Upon crossing the finish line back in Cardiff, the data told a story of efficiency undermined by environment. The team’s moving time was a blistering 3 hours, 9 minutes, and 25 seconds—fast enough to shatter the record. However, the RRA clock doesn't stop for red lights. They lost a staggering 12.5 minutes to traffic stoppages, bringing their official time to 3 hours and 22 minutes. They had failed. The lesson learned was one of profound respect for the athletes of the past. Without the benefit of Wahoo computers or aerodynamic modeling, AR Strong had set a pace that modern traffic conditions and a three-man rotation could not overcome. The pursuit of speed is not just about the wattage in the legs, but the world the wheels must roll through.
May 2, 2026The tactical hunt for marginal gains When the clock starts, nature and physics don't care about your intentions. In a time trial, every second is a battle against air resistance and mechanical friction. Si Richardson understands that facing a rival like Alex Paton requires more than just raw power; it demands a bike optimized for absolute efficiency. The psychological warfare of racing often begins in the workshop, where hours are spent ensuring the machinery can survive the violence of a maximum-effort sprint. Reclaiming data with the power meter Data is the only objective truth on the road. After previously stripping his bike of its power meter to experiment with a 1x drivetrain, Si realized that flying blind in a competitive race is a recipe for disaster. By sourcing a new power meter that allows him to keep his preferred Shimano Dura-Ace pedals, he regains the ability to pace his effort perfectly. In the mountains or on the flats, knowing your exact wattage is the difference between a calculated victory and a total physical blowout. Bigger gears and ceramic precision To push the boundaries of speed, Si upsized his chainring to a 52-tooth beast. This modification ensures he won't run out of gears on fast descents or tailwind sections. To further minimize the drag in his drivetrain, he integrated CeramicSpeed jockey wheels. This isn't just about smooth shifting; it's about neutralizing the technical advantages held by his competition. When the margins are this thin, ceramic bearings provide the friction reduction necessary to keep the chain moving with minimal resistance. Rolling on wide performance rubber The contact patch is where the rubber meets the grit of the road. Si opted for the Vision Metron 60 SL wheelset, paired with Pirelli P Zero Race RS tires. Choosing a 30mm tubeless setup is a bold move that reflects modern racing trends. While some might argue a 30mm tire is too wide for a pure time trial, the increased volume offers better vibration damping and lower rolling resistance on real-world surfaces. If this setup works for elite riders like Mathieu van der Poel, it can handle the punishment of a local race. Conclusion Preparing for a race isn't just about the physical training; it's about the relentless pursuit of equipment perfection. Si Richardson's setup proves that even seasoned riders must constantly adapt their gear to stay competitive. Now, the only thing left is to see if these modifications can translate into a winning performance on the tarmac.
Apr 6, 2026The mist hung low over Maiden Bradley as two of cycling’s most recognizable voices prepared for a confrontation that had been years in the making. Simon Richardson and Alex Paton, usually seen side-by-side in the Global Cycling Network studio, stood as rivals on the start line of a 40km hilly time trial. The air was cold, the wind biting, and the psychological tension palpable. This was the "Race of Truth," a format that strips away the protection of the peloton and leaves a rider alone with their lactic acid and their thoughts. For Richardson, it was a rare venture into the world of solo racing, while Paton aimed to defend his reputation as the technical specialist. Technology and training clash on the tarmac In the weeks leading up to the event, the preparation strategies diverged into two distinct philosophies of performance. Richardson focused on the physical engine, increasing his weekly training volume and dialing in high-intensity intervals on Zwift. Paton, a self-described bike nerd, turned his attention to the machine. He outfitted his bike with a CeramicSpeed bottom bracket and oversized 3D-printed titanium pulley wheels, hoping that marginal gains would compensate for any deficit in raw power. Both riders arrived with waxed chains and Pirelli P Zero Race RS tires, transforming the race into a laboratory of modern cycling aerodynamics and rolling resistance. The tactical error of early aggression As the clock started, the internal monologues of the riders revealed a classic pacing dilemma. The course was a brutal stretch of rolling hills, including a significant climb in the middle that threatened to break anyone who mismanaged their energy. Richardson, despite warnings to start steady, found himself passing Paton just 18 kilometers into the race. This moment served as a psychological crossroads. For Richardson, it was an injection of confidence; for Paton, it was a moment of panic. The temptation to "match" an opponent's pace in a time trial is a trap that often leads to a catastrophic fade in the final kilometers. Climbing through the threshold of pain The climax of the struggle occurred on the course's steepest ascent. Richardson, drawing on his localized knowledge of the roads, decided to "invest" his effort here, pushing nearly 500 watts to the summit. Paton, momentarily re-passing Richardson on a flatter section, soon felt the weight of his rival's persistence. The lead swapped back and forth like a pendulum, but Richardson’s willingness to suffer through the most difficult sectors ultimately gave him the upper hand. By the time the finish line appeared, the tech upgrades of the Vision Metron 60 wheels couldn't overcome the sheer grit of a well-executed pacing plan. Victory is found in the final seconds The final results revealed a gap of less than a minute. Richardson claimed the top spot with a time of 58:44, while Paton followed at 59:46. Beyond the numbers, the race served as a masterclass in the psychology of competition. Richardson proved that while technical marginal gains are essential, they are only effective when paired with a resilient mental game and a calculated strategy. For Paton, the loss was "deep," but it highlighted the inherent unpredictability of the sport. Success in team sports and individual trials alike requires more than just the best gear; it requires the courage to execute when the body demands you stop.
Mar 28, 2026The sun-drenched horizon of northwest Saudi Arabia isn't just a backdrop; it’s a living, breathing adversary. I’ve always said the mountains demand everything, and the desert is no different. We find ourselves in AlUla, a region that only cracked open its doors to the world in 2019. It is massive, rugged, and feels more like the set of a science fiction epic than a cycling destination. Starting in the mud-brick labyrinth of the Old Town, known as Adira, the air smells of date palms and ancient dust. This isn't your weekend fire-road jaunt. This is an oasis built on a hidden aquifer, a lush anomaly surrounded by millions of years of geological history. Ancient Echoes at the Hegra Necropolis Pushing twenty kilometers into the burn, we hit Hegra, the first UNESCO World Heritage site in the kingdom. It’s impossible not to feel small here. The Nabataeans carved over a hundred monumental tombs directly into the sandstone cliffs two millennia ago. While Petra has gone mainstream, Hegra retains a raw, untouched energy. The rock formations here—mushroom-shaped sentinels sculpted by uneven erosion—remind me of the high deserts in Utah, yet the cultural weight is entirely different. Navigating the soft sand between these structures requires more than just fitness; it requires a deep respect for a civilization that thrived in a landscape this inhospitable. Tactical Gear for the Deep Desert When the terrain turns to powder, your gear is the only thing keeping you upright. Alex Paton and Ollie Bridgewood tackled this loop on the Pinarello Grevil F, a machine designed for exactly this brand of chaos. In a place where the sand can swallow a thin tire whole, they opted for Pirelli Cinturato rubber measuring a beefy 52mm. That extra volume isn't a luxury—it’s a survival tool. Paired with Princeton 4540 wheels, the setup allowed them to float over sections that would have stalled a lesser bike. Even then, the desert has its ways of humbling you. One wrong line into a soft pocket and you're unclipped, struggling to find traction in a world of orange dust. The Gravity of Elephant Rock As we pushed toward Elephant Rock, or Jabal AlFil, the physical toll of the heat began to set in. Standing 52 meters tall, this monolithic sandstone beast was carved by nothing but wind and time. We took a moment at a local orange farm to refuel, wary of the Arabian Cobra and Horned Viper that call these oases home. The contrast here is jarring: one minute you’re dodging venomous neurotoxins in a lush grove, and the next you’re staring at a geological giant that makes your 100-kilometer goal feel like a pittance. Vertical Redemption on the Harrat Climb The climax of this journey wasn't found in the flats, but in the vertical. The Harrat Climb is a legendary piece of tarmac that serves as the finale for the AlUla Tour. We’re talking 25% gradients that make your lungs scream and your front wheel lift. It is a brutal, unforgiving wall of heat and gravity. Reaching the Harrat Viewpoint at sunset, looking down over the vast basalt plateau, the struggle finally makes sense. You don't come to AlUla for an easy ride. You come to see if you can handle the scale of a landscape that doesn't care if you finish. The lesson is simple: nature doesn't move for you; you move for it.
Mar 1, 2026The clock reads 6:15 a.m. in AlUla. The air carries that sharp, pre-dawn desert bite that reminds you exactly where you are. To the east, the sun hasn't yet breached the horizon, but the silhouette of ancient sandstone cliffs looms over us like giants. My partners for this suffer-fest, Alex Paton and Ollie Bridgewood from GCN, aren't just here for a leisurely spin. We have a 320-kilometer line drawn across the map of Saudi Arabia, stretching from this desert oasis to the coastal city of Umluj. The mission? Reach the Red Sea before the sun dips below the water. We have ten hours. The math is simple, but the reality of the desert rarely is. The Brutal Geometry of the Desert Starting a 300km+ ride requires a specific kind of mental compartmentalization. You can't think about the finish line when you're only five kilometers in; you have to think about the rhythm. We rolled out on Pinarello Dogma F bikes, machines built for exactly this kind of high-speed endurance. Alex opted for the Princeton CarbonWorks Max 7580 wheels, a deep-section choice that signals one intention: riding on the front and smashing the wind. In these early hours, the desert feels deceptively welcoming. The AlUla bike path provides a smooth ribbon of tarmac through the sand, and the scenery is a rotating gallery of archaeological heritage and agricultural pockets. But there’s a shadow over the morale. Alex and Ollie have history with long rides in the heat; last time they attempted 300km together, Alex hit a wall so hard he ended up in tears. This journey isn't just about the distance; it's a redemption arc against the climate. Fueling the Machine You don't survive ten hours at a 32km/h average without a meticulous fueling strategy. Alex was targeting roughly 90 grams of carbohydrates per hour, relying heavily on Precision Fuel & Hydration chew bars and gels. When the body burns through 5,000 calories before the day is even done, the "pudding trolley" becomes your best friend. By the three-hour mark, we had covered 140 kilometers, averaging a staggering 37 km/h. On paper, we were flying. But the desert has a way of balancing the scales. As soon as the route turned, we were no longer dancing with a tailwind. We were staring down the barrel of a 100-kilometer continuous climb, and the wind had decided to push back with everything it had. Our speed plummeted from 37 km/h to a grueling 28 km/h. This is where the mental toughness of an outdoor athlete is forged—not in the easy miles, but in the crawling ascent when the horizon never seems to move. Landscapes in Flux One of the most striking elements of crossing Saudi Arabia is the sheer diversity of the terrain. We transitioned from the golden sandstone of AlUla into surreal, black volcanic lava fields. These ancient basalt formations felt more like Lanzarote or Tenerife than the stereotypical dunes of the Middle East. It’s a rugged, inhospitable beauty that demands respect. As we ground our way up the 100km incline, the morale fluctuated. We hit a small town looking for a bakery, desperate for a hit of sugar and a break from the wind. What we found was a translated sign that led to a small shop rather than a boulangerie, but it didn't matter. Icy water and Pringles became the high-octane fuel we needed to reset. At this stage, Ollie was looking strong, while Alex was entering that dark place where the wheels start to feel square. The dynamic of a duo in the wild is vital; when one person flags, the other takes the wind. The Final Descent to the Red Sea After what felt like an eternity of climbing, we reached the "notch" in the mountains. The descent was a lifeline. We dropped out of the volcanic highlands and into luscious green valleys, a sudden explosion of life that felt entirely misplaced in the arid expanse. But the wind wouldn't let us go. Even on the downhill sections, we were fighting a headwind that threatened to derail our sunset deadline. With 30 kilometers to go, the Red Sea finally appeared as a shimmering blue line. The sight of the coast acts like a shot of adrenaline. Every ache in the lower back and every hot spot on the feet fades when the objective is in sight. We rolled into Umluj with the sun still hanging stubbornly in the sky, achieving an overall average of 32 km/h despite the 1,200 meters of elevation and the brutal air resistance. The Lesson of the Long Road Standing on the sand, lifting the bikes in a triumph that felt heavier than it should have, the exhaustion was total. Pushing boundaries in nature isn't just about the physical stats—it's about the transformation that happens when you're 250 kilometers deep and have to find a way to keep the pedals turning. The desert didn't give us anything; we had to take every kilometer. This ride was a reminder that the world is far more diverse than the maps suggest. From the quiet bike paths of AlUla to the punishing lava fields and finally the salt air of the Red Sea, the journey was a masterclass in endurance. Nature’s challenges are the ultimate mirror. They show you exactly who you are when the wind is in your face and the sun is going down. We found ourselves out there, somewhere between the sand and the sea.
Feb 15, 2026