Green Netjetter Susan will set off on her coast-to-coast US cycling odyssey in just over a week. She reports on the highs and lows of her training regime...

I blinked once. Slowly.

"I'm sorry, if Borough Green is five miles that way, why would I go three in the other direction?"

"'Well, it's a great view and worth a detour I'd say."

I blinked again. Clearly the man was insane. I had my entire body weight in insect life glued to the suncream on my face, I was sweating enough to avert a hosepipe ban and my lazy right eye was rampaging wildly in its socket. View?! How could I possibly look like a woman who required anything other than a large shot of vodka straight up her nose?

To passers-by an extra three miles on top of 65 is neither here nor there. And in truth, after three weeks of massive rides around Kent, Surrey and Sussex that's pretty spot on. But it's been hard work getting to this stage. Have you ever ridden 65 miles in 30 degree heat without stopping? Allow me to explain to you how it feels.

Tie a towel around your waist like an oversized nappy. Fill it with gravel, glass and bits of wood shaving. Now sit on a space hopper and bounce for six hours solid until your thigh muscles feel like they have been removed and reattached the wrong way round. For full effect, attempt in a greenhouse preferably with an onlooker or two ready to comment on the state of your arse just when you feel at your most hideous.

So training for my American road trip has been something of a revelation. I have gone through periods of utter despair when the sheer logistical enormity of what lies ahead has dwarfed the physical effort of hulking myself across a continent. I have turned the air blue with swearing halfway up endless hills. And I have become an expert in the noises bicycles make such as ping, screech, clunk, and "argh!" which is your front brakes flying off just as your speed reaches 30mph.

But gradually the distances have become easier, the creases in the organisation have been ironed out and as departure looms I think I'm as quietly confident as I can afford to be without knowing what's around the next bend. At least with the aid of a compact, bicycle adapted solar panel, lovingly constructed by my cousin David, I know I'll have light and music wherever I go.

I have even reconciled myself to the loss of my thighs, a fact I was forced to face when I overheard my grandmother say "yes, but have you seen the size of her legs?!" And you know the funny thing? Just when I was looking far away for experience and adventure, I've found more than enough at home. I've rediscovered friends, family and strangers whose support has been priceless and I've been left amazed by the beauty of counties I'd written off as boring just because I've known them all my life.

You may think that last paragraph is unspeakably cheesy. But then as far as I can see, you've still got another five hours 55 minutes to go on that space hopper. Who's laughing now eh?!