It took years of dreaming and then eight months of proper planning before I set off on my first adventure. Once I was underway, cycling eastwards into a crisp European autumn, it dawned on me that all I was doing was going for a bike ride and a camping trip. What had all the fuss been about? You need a bike, a tent, a map, a passport and some cash. That’s about it. Pedal until you’re tired, then camp for the night. Repeat the process 1500 times, and you’ll be done.

Consider how long you would take to get ready for a weekend bicycle trip. You’d pack your camping gear, a raincoat and toothbrush and check your wallet was in your pocket. Then you pump up the tyres and off you go. Easy. So why my years of protracted fuss getting ready for what was nothing more than a longer bike ride? 

As I pedalled further away from home, I learned the answer to this question. It offers a counterpoint to my mantra of instant, reckless launches. I came to understand that the importance of the planning was that it gave me the confidence I needed to begin. Preparation and organisation helped me overcome the fear of the unknown and prize myself away from cosy inertia towards a tipping point of commitment. 

As the ride unfolded, I worked out how to put up my tent more quickly and how to fix punctures at -40 degrees (put the pump down your pants to keep the seals from cracking). I got the hang of communicating without a common language. I learned the knack of organising visas for despotic countries. I developed the resilience to accept that it was up to me to solve every problem myself or else pluck up the nerve to ask a stranger for help. 

In other words, I learned how to cycle around the world by cycling round the world. 

Without all the planning beforehand, however, I would not have dared to set off. To know nothing but still toss my life up in the air and go would have demanded a gung-ho boldness far beyond my personality.

For many projects, you don’t need much more than the confidence to begin. ‘Ready, fire, aim!’ is a good mantra (unless you are jumping out of an aeroplane or doing heart surgery). It is more effective than ‘Ready, aim, fire’, because that often becomes, ‘Ready, aim – faff, faff, faff, faff – postpone.’

It is easy to confuse planning with stalling. Planning must not be an excuse to delay. Planning helped me cast light on the darkness, tack some answers to my concerns and reduce the chances of early failure or capitulation. It reassured those close to me that my scheme was not total madness. In this context, planning was useful, important and necessary. It was the tool that gave me confidence and an exercise in pragmatic recklessness.