It’s the sort of thing that only happens to other people – I’ve become a MAMIL. I didn’t even know what a MAMIL was until months after the term had done the rounds of the internet chat forums.

Middle Aged Man In Lycra. That’s me. Or is it?

I became aware that (relatively) normal people were wearing Lycra when I entered a cross-country mountain bike race back in February.

It was a bitterly cold day, 1C, and we huddled in the Walton Street Cycles van until the last possible moment.

Before rushing over to the starting line, my two riding partners did a Clark Kent in the back of the van and reappeared wearing Lycra head to toe.

I had never seen them in ‘tights’ as they are called – gobsmacked, much mirth was had at their expense.

Of the 80 or so racers on the grid, I was the only one NOT wearing Lycra all over. As it was freezing, I’d decided to wear two lightweight woollen jerseys over my (non-Lycra) T-shirt, on the basis that wool is breathable.

Wrong. All wrong. I had to stop after the first of three laps to remove the jumpers – despite the freezing temperature, I was puce.

Dozens of riders (including my team ‘mates’) lapped me, and a marshal told me on the second lap not to bother with the third. That day, Lycra went from being an indeterminate undergarment to a clothing item in its own right.

By the time you read this I will be returning from Holland – by plane for my sins, but I am riding there.

It’s for charity, a 200-mile ride over three days: two half-day rides east to Harwich, ferry to Hook of Holland and then on to Amsterdam. I hadn’t given it a second thought till my wife started getting properly concerned about my lack of training, and I began to ride around Otmoor with Alex, the guy I’m doing the ride with.

My road bike had been broken for six months and I was too busy/lazy to fix it, so I found myself doing 40-mile training rides with Alex using my single-speed steel-framed pub bike. As Alex sped along on his road bike, I realised I was falling behind the game again. He wore long-sleeved Lycra/wicking tops and reported feeling neither too hot nor too cold.

Realising my folly almost too late, I panic-bought some Lycra tights and ‘base layers’ – Lycra-ish ‘technical’ clothing to keep you warm/cool/dry/happy whatever the weather.

Our training rides have taken us north-easterly over the ring road past Elsfield to Beckley, where the massive radio mast is, and Stanton St John. After just 45 minutes we’d be on a bridge over the M40.

It’s a great feeling to have cycled all that way so quickly – by car it would have taken 25 minutes at 70 mph to get there.

From Boarstall, it’s a gentle climb up to Brill and a great downhill from the top where the windmill is.

Then on to Woodperry and the open fields around Horton-cum-Studley, or via pleasant lanes via Worminghall and Wheatley to Shotover Hill. Old Road in Wheatley turns into a bridleway and climbs steeply up to the top of Shotover, along a route that was the main road to London until the end of the 18th century.

The trip should be fun, although as I write this on Friday morning, a few hours pre-departure under leaden skies full of hail, I think we’ll be earning every penny of the sponsorship we’re collecting for schools in Malawi.

If you feel moved to chip in, you can still do so at http://www.justgiving.com/londontoamsterdamcycle.