Meeting the Cyclist Attempting a World Record: 110 Days Around the Globe
Lael Wilcox, a name spoken in hushed reverence among the world of long-distance cycling, was, surprisingly, a late bloomer in the sport. It was a sun-kissed morning on May 26, 7:06 a.m. precisely, when Wilcox pedaled away from Chicago’s Grant Park, initiating her audacious pursuit of the Guinness World Record for circumnavigating the globe by bicycle. The clock had started ticking. Her goal was clear: to cover 18,000 miles in 110 days, demanding at least 163 miles of daily cycling, a challenge that would test the very fabric of her endurance.
In pursuit of this record, Wilcox must traverse 18,000 miles in a single direction, returning to her starting point, a journey echoing the Earth’s circumference. Flights between continents are permissible, but the distance on land must be conquered on two wheels. This record has been untouched since 2018, held by Scotland’s Jenny Graham, who completed the feat in 124 days and 11 hours.
From the heart of Chicago, Wilcox’s path will stretch across North America, leap to Europe, then onwards to Bangkok, cutting through Thailand, Malaysia, and Singapore. Her tires will caress the pavements of Australia and New Zealand before an Arctic return to Alaska, and finally, back to Chicago.
Raised in Anchorage, Alaska, Wilcox embarked on her cycling odyssey about a decade ago. Since then, she has triumphed in some of the most grueling endurance races known to the sport. Before this grand adventure, she spoke candidly about traveling light, sleeping under the stars, and the true essence of experiencing a place. Our conversation, meticulously edited for clarity, follows:
When did the idea of breaking the Guinness World Record first take root in your mind?
It was in 2016, during a trans-America race. That was the genesis. I even got a new passport, driven by a whimsical dream, barely making it to the cross-country races. There was no plan, no budget, just an endless fascination with staying out there, seeing everything. It was a passion project entwined with competition.
That trans-America race remains my longest race, spanning 4,200 miles. I won it—outright, beating all men and women—but I was utterly spent. I couldn’t go on. It took 18 days and 10 minutes. Now, I’m aiming for 110 days. It’s a long haul, but that was 2016. This is 2024. I’m stepping into this with a different level of resilience. Back then, I was new to the sport, driven by pure heart but lacking experience. I pushed myself to the brink every day, often succumbing to self-doubt.
Now, this summer’s mission is something I’ve longed for. It’s been a dream deferred for too long.
Is your passport freshly renewed again?
Yes, there were some basics to sort out like passports and visas. I had to register my ride with the association, keeping meticulous records of daily mileage—start and stop points. It’s all about documenting the journey, proving that it happened. [Follow Lael’s journey here.]
Being American is a privilege; I can travel to most places without a visa, and I’m grateful for that. Once those basics are covered, it’s a matter of seeing how it all unfolds.
There’s no fixed route within these points. Why is that?
There is a plan, but it’s flexible. This challenge requires each rider to chart their own course because political situations change. My European leg starts in Portugal and ends in Tbilisi, Georgia, where I’ll take my next flight.
But that’s part of the joy. I get to visit new places, and I’m thrilled about riding through them.
Which country’s ride excites you the most?
Georgia. The different alphabet, the imposing mountains. It’s the birthplace of bread and wine. It captivates me. Also, Turkey. I’ve never been, but it influences so many surrounding regions—cuisine, colors, trade routes. These routes have existed for centuries, and I get to experience what it’s like today. Aiming for an average of 170 miles daily, it’s an incredible way to live each moment.
Are there days built into the itinerary where you can just be there?
People often ask: How do you see places if you’re always on the bike? I think you see them differently. You experience every sunrise, every sunset, you need to buy food, find places to sleep. I wish I could engage more culturally, but there’s no time. But as I pass through Paris, I’ll see the Eiffel Tower, I’ll be amidst these iconic places. Plus, I invite people to join segments, adding a sense of local community.
How do you receive support?
The record allows for either supported or unsupported attempts. Essentially, if you ride the miles, it counts. But I’ve always done everything self-supported. I don’t need someone handing me burritos from a car or swapping out my water bottles. It would be tedious for them.
I can do it myself. It’s how I prefer to travel. I can’t imagine a car trailing me constantly. Part of the joy is being out there alone. However, because it’s not strict, people can meet me, bring cookies, offer a place to stay. Previous races prohibited any help, which sometimes meant refusing kindness. Now, I’m free to accept it along the way.
I love the idea of the freedom a bike offers.
Exposed to the elements, climbing mountains, descending them. It’s the most exhilarating way to travel. I enjoy walking and running, but there’s no downhill, no coasting. With a bike, you feel the wind, everything is exciting.
When you’re working hard, climbing, it gets warm, and that’s motivating. It’s not like a motorcycle. It’s dynamic; you’re involved in the whole process, but you also get moments of rest downhill.
For me, it’s become a norm. I appreciate the fresh air and passing places. It’s where I do my best thinking. I get hungry and tired on the road, meet my needs, and witness everything around me.
It’s very quiet. I see many animals, and I love that. When I started, it wasn’t out of love but necessity—it was cheap. But it’s become so much more. It’s what I want to do every day.
As a traveler, jet lag is often discussed. How do you plan to manage it on this schedule?
I’m heavily jet-lagged now, having just returned from Spain. It’s challenging. Jet lag hits you hard, making everything feel sideways.
During the trans-America race, I averaged about 5 hours of sleep, but towards the end, I cut back to chase the leaders. It worked then. But this time, with such a prolonged endeavor, I’ll need more sleep—between 6 and 8 hours to stay sane. Without enough sleep, I make mistakes, which costs more time. In retrospect, I’d think I should have slept more. That’s the strategy now. Let’s see how it unfolds. The good thing is I can adjust as I go.
Travelers often discuss gear and packing. How do you prepare for a 110-day journey?
I settled on the latest model of the same bike I rode across America in 2016, the Specialized Roubaix. This bike flies. Designed for the Tour de France, but with 110 days of racing, I’ve added equipment for self-care on the road. Yet, I must be careful not to weigh it down.
For navigation, I use a small GPS bike computer, the Wahoo Elemnt Roam. I’ve mounted a GPS and phone on the handlebars for finding stores, housed in a special Quad Lock case. It resembles a jet cockpit, with many gadgets. I’ll replace worn parts along the way—chains, gears. On such a long ride, I might need 4 to 5 replacements.
Packing is like preparing for an overnight trip. The same amount of gear, but for 110 nights—a sleep kit, basic tools, one outfit. That’s how I’ll live. I can’t carry everything for every situation. Just the essentials for sleeping, eating, fixing the bike.
How does the traveler in you relate to this round-the-world ride? Are you the type to handle problems?
I’m drawn to this racing style because I love plunging into the unknown and dealing with the unexpected. Thinking on my feet, solving problems on the spot—it’s the essence of this sport.
You must embrace it. You can’t plan for every scenario. Plans often fall apart. It suits me perfectly. I’m not one for meticulous planning, so I adapt on the fly. This ride is about breaking a record, but it’s also a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Cycling around the world, seeing and experiencing everything firsthand for three and a half months.
Is there anything else you want to share about this journey?
I started competing at 28 or 29. People said it’s better to start young. Now, I’m 37 and still going. It’s a gift to do this, to be healthy and have this access and freedom.
But I hope my story inspires those with curiosity and a sense of adventure to pursue their challenges confidently. That’s why my story matters. People see me as a regular person doing what seems impossible. It’s a fight worth having.
