Down to Earth with a Bump

Bjorn Lawton's Roubaix Challenge story

Writing this 72 hours after finishing the Paris–Roubaix Challenge 2026, I’m still a little discombobulated. Did I really just ride the Queen of the Classics?!

The day started worryingly with tired legs and a faffing panic over the saddle bag. Mark (NRC/KOM) eventually had enough and thankfully told me to sort myself out. Then we rolled out. Silky smooth roads averaging 23mph and that dangerous feeling that maybe, just maybe… it wouldn’t be that bad.

As planned, I hit the first cobbled sector fast at around 19mph, riding the crown. Within seconds, my fillings loosened, my vision blurred and I began questioning all my life choices. The real danger? Not the cobbles. Not the riders. It was the sea of bidons scattered everywhere launched from bikes within seconds and now bouncing unpredictably across the sector like caffeinated rabbits.

The cobbles are savage. Every sector is a different flavour of unpleasant. Some are merely “aggressively bumpy.” Others feel like riding over house bricks arranged by someone with a personal vendetta. Line choice becomes everything. You scan constantly for the least awful option only for it to disappear the moment you commit.

Momentum is your friend.  You can ride them slowly but the pain and chaos increase in direct proportion to any drop in speed.

Physically, it’s a full-body workout. Hands go numb. Arms feel like they’ve done a week in the gym. Your core gets more action than it ever signed up for. Mentally, it’s just as demanding. Lose focus for a second and you’re bouncing from crown to camber and halfway to inventing a new off-road route.

Bike setup matters. I’d spent hours, days, weeks, months researching everything: frame, rims, tyres, saddle, food, training. I went with shallow carbon rims, 32mm tubeless tyres, and lower pressures. It helped… slightly. Pre-riding the cobbles beforehand definitely paid off. But by sector 20 of 30, blisters were forming and holding the bars had moved from “firm grip” to something closer to desperation.

As the miles ticked by, fatigue crept in and made everything more… interesting. You can train for distance. The constant decision-making on line choice, bike handling and being in survival mode. A double espresso at the last feed stop proved critical. Without it, there’s a strong chance the ride would have ended courtesy of a brief lapse in concentration.

The cobbles didn’t get easier. I just cared less. Then came the big one.

The Carrefour de l’Arbre is one of the true boss levels of Paris–Roubaix. One of only three five-star sectors and it arrives late, when everyone is already broken. I knew it was coming and had deliberately saved something for it. Brutal. Iconic. Somehow both the worst and the most rewarding sector of the day. I made it through unscathed.

Head down. Pedal hard. Roubaix velodrome.

Crossing the finish line was equal parts relief and achievement. Relief that the cobbles had finally stopped and achievement in making it through one of cycling’s most infamous challenges without being permanently rearranged.

All in all, Paris–Roubaix is brutal, chaotic but massively enjoyable. It’s a ride you don’t always enjoy in the moment… but one you’ll talk about for a long time afterwards.

So, back to 72 hours later. In another moment of questionable judgement, I decided I needed a recovery ride. I signed up for the NRC Tuesday evening 20-miler. We rolled out of Newbury towards Hampstead Norreys.  Ten miles in, the bike now renamed the “Roubaix Slayer” came to a sudden halt.  Not by cobbles. Not by chaos but by the West Berkshire road surface, which succeeded where Paris–Roubaix failed: puncturing my rear tyre. Sealant everywhere. Pride slightly dented.  With help from the ride leader, I got rolling again firmly brought back down to earth with a bump.  Who would of thought I would dream of being back on the cobbles so soon! 

Bjorn (L) with fellow travellers Jerry Rolfe (C) and Mark Nelson (R)