Katrina Gwynne-Jones

hill after hard hill

I return to my own breath

strength in fragments grows

Three weeks from today, I’ll be standing at the start line of my first ever cycling challenge. London to Paris. Four days. 311 miles. A journey I never imagined I’d take, not in this body, not in this season of my life and yet here I am, slowly stitching myself back together through movement.

Before the miles came the small things. The quiet preparations. The learning of what my body needs.

After so many uncomfortable rides, I finally bought my first proper cycling outfit, padded shorts from Luca. It took me a year to commit, but the moment I put them on, I understood. The colour, the lightness, the way they were made by a woman for women. My saddle and handlebars have already been upgraded to suit my body, but these shorts felt like a small mercy. A softness I didn’t know I needed.

A few days ago, I took on most of the Coverdale Loop Ride, one of the toughest routes in the Yorkshire Dales. I rode 26.02 miles with 2,678 ft of climbing in just over three hours, and I learned more about myself on that ride than I expected.

Coverdale isn’t gentle. It’s steep, sharp, unforgiving. Some gradients hit 20–25%, and three of those climbs forced me off the bike and onto my feet. And that was okay. Because the point wasn’t perfection. It was perseverance.

Even with the walking sections, I kept going. I climbed nearly 2,700 ft. I stayed steady. I didn’t quit.

I finished tired, proud, and quietly astonished by what my legs and my mind could do.

My mum asked me on the morning of that wild, relentless route, “What bothered you the most at that moment?” And I answered honestly: my mind.

Training isn’t just physical for me. It’s the place where I come back to myself. However hard the ride was, it grounded me. It reminded me that I am still here, still capable, still moving.

Coverdale gave me something I didn’t realise I needed: proof. Proof that I can handle long days, big climbs, and moments where I must dig deeper. And that matters, because the climbs from London to Paris are nothing like Coverdale. They’re steady, predictable usually 5–7% instead of the brutal ramps in the Dales. If I can get through Coverdale, I can get through Paris.

This challenge isn’t just about miles. It’s about resilience, community, and raising support for Strength in Fragments CIC (and myself), so we can keep creating gentle spaces for people navigating hard seasons.

Even though I’m past the most intense part of treatment (chemo, surgery, radiotherapy) the journey doesn’t simply end there. I’m on a combination of long‑term medications that keep my hormones suppressed and protect my body, but they come with their own challenges. Some days I feel steady; other days I’m pulled under by fatigue, bone‑deep aches, or a heaviness I can’t quite explain. People often assume “all clear” means “all better,” but healing is rarely that simple. I’m still learning how to live inside this new landscape.

I may be a worker, a friend, a family member but at the end of the day, I come back to me. And I must take care of me.

Coverdale reminded me that even the steepest climbs can be faced one step, one pedal stroke, one breath at a time. There is something grounding about discovering you’re stronger than you thought, even on the days you walk.

If you’d like to support me on this journey through a message, a donation, or simply following along. I’d love to have you with me. Paris feels a little less far when I’m not riding alone.