Congratulations to Alex McCormack who broke the existing 7-day TT (HWMR) record in the following categories: Male (18-49) non-drafting upright bike. He surpassed the current record set by Arvis Sprude on 2024-07-06 of 2,369.70 miles (3813.81 Km)

Alex rode 2377.65 Miles (3826.46 Km)

This is also a new Guinness non-age group record

The idea for the record came up at our February training camp with Canyon x DT Swiss All-Terrain Racing. The Canyon guys asked if I had any ‘extra-curricular’ plans alongside the race calendar. I’d been quietly thinking this one might be possible. They were keen, so we got the ball rolling.

It all happened pretty quickly. To leave enough recovery time for the main goals later in the season, it had to be March. I’d originally thought about Denmark, but Canyon suggested a route along the Mosel near Koblenz. Flat, repeatable, and close to their base for support. I had a quick look and it seemed to tick the boxes, so that was that.

From there, it was about a month of prep. I only got the bike I’d be riding, the Canyon Speedmax, a week before the start. The longest ride I’d done in that position was two and a half hours. Not exactly ideal.

The support crew was small. My cousin Owen, an osteopath. Harry from Canyon. A mechanic checking the bike each day. And Millie joined for the final stretch. Most of us come from unsupported racing, so this was new territory. A proper learning curve.

There were definitely some nerves heading out to Germany. I hadn’t seen the course, hadn’t ridden the full setup, and hadn’t worn a TT helmet before. Quite a few firsts packed into a 45-minute recce. But once I rolled out, the numbers made sense. The speed was there for the power, and the route worked. That settled things.

What I didn’t really do was think about the effort itself. I was so wrapped up in organising everything that I never gave the ride proper mental space. The night before it hit me: this was going to be serious. I’ve had better rides when I fully face what’s coming. This time I’d put that off.

The plan was simple enough on paper: 600 km every 24 hours. Four laps of a 150 km out-and-back. No van on the road with me, just back to the hotel each lap to refuel, change, maybe sleep, then out again.

Day one went well. Windy enough that I had to come out of the TT position at times, but still fast. Legs were good, everything felt under control. A mix of snow, sleet, sun and rain, but it was actually one of the better days.

Day two is where it started to unravel a bit. Knee pain crept in, probably from the new setup: bike, pedals, shoes, all of it. Then the weather turned. Zero-degree rain, the kind that soaks through everything, followed by wind chill. You never really get warm again.

The crew were stretched trying to keep up with wet kit changes. I needed hot food constantly just to stay functional. Trying to stay aero meant I couldn’t layer up properly, so I was cold most of the time. Showering between laps just to warm up became part of the routine. Not efficient, but necessary. A lot of shivering. Even on the bike.

Days three and four were more of the same. Just grinding. Every forecast promised a better tomorrow. Every tomorrow delivered more rain or snow.

By day six it turned into a race against time. The numbers said the record was still there, but only if we stripped everything back. Minimal stops. Eating on the bike. Almost no sleep.

The morning of day seven was the lowest point. One hour of sleep, then straight back out. Everything hurt. Neck, knees, contact points. I was close to stopping. But after six days, that didn’t sit right. The first hour was rough, then the sun came up and things started to move again.

Going into the final night, I knew it was there if I held it together. My neck was completely gone by then. We ended up rigging a bungee cord from the van to help keep my head up so I could see the road.

In the end, the record came down to a handful of kilometres. The final push was 27 hours and 727 km.

I had to go deeper than I expected, and there’s a strange edge of disappointment with it. In my head, I wanted more. This was the minimum for success, not the picture I’d built beforehand. But given the conditions, I think that perspective will shift with time.

Massive thanks to everyone who supported it. Messages, people out on the route, and especially the crew who kept it moving day after day. It meant a lot.

On to the next one.