Check-in

While Lance Armstrong battles for his eight victory in the mountains of France this July, another piece of cycling history will be unravelling in neighbouring Spain. Two idiots dresses in Lycra and converse trainers will be sticking up two spokes to the credit crunch and burning rubber across the land of paella.

I can't remember which one of us had the bright idea (it was probably me) - but tomorrow morning at 5am, my very ugly brother and I will be boarding easyjet flight 5475, non-stop to Madrid - carrying with us two bicycles and a bike pump. Our intentions ... to pedal the 800 km to Barcelona, via the orange fields of Valencia.

It is important to note at this point that we are NOT cyclists - the furthest I have cycled up to this point was on my morning paper round which consisted of an entire 25 drops down my street.

Our weapons have been dismantled and boxed for carriage upon the easyjet jumbo and at this point I am merely concerned that we are able to put them back together at the other end. Otherwise we got a bloody long walk.

Joe - who shall from this point on be referred to as Jose for our Spanish readers - will be straddled on a Shimano Scorpion Racer, while my human-powered vehicle of choice will be a Trek Hybrid Road Bike which I call 'The Fox'.