Writing the last blog was unexpectedly cathartic. I had started writing it purely because I was in the mood to write and the cycle challenge seemed as good a topic as any other. By the end of the post however, I had come to the conclusion that the Surrey 100 was more about helping me overcome my negative mind-set than about hauling myself the 100 miles. This is quite a revelation! So inspired by my new found insight I approached the Friday session with determination to be positive.
The spin session was run by my favourite instructor (more partial to 80s cheese than dance) and his playlist started with the song 'Happy' which I felt had to be a good Omen. Every time the negative daemon piped up I forced a new voice into my head - the chirpy cheerleader. She sporadically sings happy little phrases like 'your doing great'. When the daemon goads 'you won't make it till the end of the set' the cheerleader interjects 'Don't worry, see if you can make another minute, you are doing brilliantly'. At the end of that minute she congratulates 'Brilliant well done you, how about another 30 seconds more?' and if I manage that she asks the same question again. Eventually when I have to take a break and my daemon smirks 'lazy' the cheerleader corrects 'that was still 3 extra minutes then you thought you could do and it is good to pace yourself'. And so the spin session continued with the daemon on one shoulder, the cheerleader on the other both vying for my attention. The cheerleader seems false and irritating, like an overfamiliar American tourist, but I have to admit I felt a good deal happier at the end of the session then when it was just me and the daemon on my back.
Unfortunately the addition of a positive voice in my head.... I just realised I'm well on my way to a diagnosis of schizophrenia but never mind... has not translated into more training.
At the weekend I tried to convince Nick to take me for a long training ride. I imagined that Nick would be delighted by my sudden desire to join him in his spandex fetish. But alas when it comes to taking me out on an actual training ride he seems more reluctant. Perhaps the reality does not quite match the fantasy. So rather begrudgingly Nick takes me out for a steady 30 miles with some friends in Oxford. Whilst the ride was lovely, I don't think it got me any further towards my goal of 100 miles in six and a half hours.
On Tuesday I had arranged to go for an evening cycle with Becky. The weather was perfect, my bike was working, I had company, I really had no excuse not to go, but somehow the training ride ended up with me and Becky eating chocolate cake in my garden. Whilst the cake was lovely, this again gets me no further towards me goal. In fact the chocolate cake will be working against me!
Wednesday I was busy horse riding, and Friday I was in Manchester so the only day I had left for training was Thursday. OK I had no choice but to do the double - two spin sessions in one evening! I got myself psyched up, bought copious amounts of water and energy drink, I was all set, but then the second class was cancelled due to lack of interest. (It was a beautiful evening, anyone in their right mind would be out on a bike rather than in the sweaty studio so I am not surprised). Bother! Oh well, at least I managed one spin session. It was the Eastern European and her dance music marathon so I was secretly pleased that I didn't have to do 2 hours of the session. I don't think I tried as hard as I could have though, perhaps the cheerleader is too soft on me.
And then the weekend came. Friday night was spent rolling around my friends living room floor singing show tunes in an alcohol induced frenzy. Saturday was spent at a hen do, deeply regretting Friday night activities. Which only left Sunday for training. Unfortunately Nick and I had miss timed our binge drinking and he was a day behind. We had planned to spend Sunday cycling around the Isle of White but the inconsiderate timing of the Isle of White festival (this weekend) and Nicks excesses on Saturday night meant that our plans were scaled back to a 13 mile bimble around the South Downs...
...I say 13 mile bimble, but I think I should point out that the South downs, in actual fact, have an equal number of ups, which should not be underestimated. To be fair to Nick, he was a good sport in going at all as he was in no fit state. The legs were going but no one was home upstairs. Zombi Nick led me up seemingly endless hills. I puffed and panted and hauled myself up. At first I was staying fairly chipper, keeping the happy sound track of the cheerleader in my ear. As the hills rolled on this became harder. The panting changed to wheezing. Zombi Nick was struggling to read the sat nav, resulting in some sudden stops and near SPD fails which shook my confidence. The cheerleader ran out of happy phrases. The daemon noted that Zombi Nick was still not out of breath. In fact he was not perceptively breathing. Either he really was a Zombi or I was terribly unfit - not fit enough for the Surrey 100. The hills got steeper, I started to wobble. My lungs burned and could not draw in enough breath. My head felt hot and my vision darkened around the edges. If I went any slower I would fall off. I started to panic. What if I fell, I would not be able to get back up. I car could come racing round the corner and I would be unable to get out of the way. I started to really freak out when I realised that my feet where clipped in, I can't stop! In a desperate panic I tried to unclip both feet, not easy to do when you are having do use all your weight to push up the hill. My heal missed the peddled as I tried to force my right foot down and I fell sideways. PANIC. My unclipped foot stopped me hitting the floor but the damage was done. My whole body was shaking violently and I could not catch my breath. My limbs felt weak and far away and my chest and thought tightened in fear. We are now into a full blown anxiety attack. Nick managed to shake of his Zombi state and tried to calm me, but calming someone out of a panic attack is almost impossible. Luckily I am an anxiety disorder veteran and after a minute or so I managed to find the quiet corner of my brain still able to think rationally. YOU ARE HAVING A PANIC ATTACK. YOU ARE HYPERVENTERLATING THERFORE BLOWING OFF ALL THE CARBON DIOXIDE IN YOUR BODY. IF YOU CONTINUE YOU WILL FEEL WORSE AND YOUR MUSCULES WILL CONTRACT. YOU CANNOT HYPERVENTALATE IF YOU ARE CYCLING UP THE HILL. CYCLE. And so I cycled through it, and got to the top a little shaken but a good deal calmer. The rest of the ride was a bit easier, we had reached the top of the hill and were about to experience the 'downs'. The several miles of downhill back to the car were refreshing and managed to wash away my earlier panic.
But my confidence remains shaken. I need to keep training. I need to get a lot better but my fear is stopping me from just getting on my bike and riding on my own. The 100 feels like a mountain that I am going to struggle to climb.
The spin session was run by my favourite instructor (more partial to 80s cheese than dance) and his playlist started with the song 'Happy' which I felt had to be a good Omen. Every time the negative daemon piped up I forced a new voice into my head - the chirpy cheerleader. She sporadically sings happy little phrases like 'your doing great'. When the daemon goads 'you won't make it till the end of the set' the cheerleader interjects 'Don't worry, see if you can make another minute, you are doing brilliantly'. At the end of that minute she congratulates 'Brilliant well done you, how about another 30 seconds more?' and if I manage that she asks the same question again. Eventually when I have to take a break and my daemon smirks 'lazy' the cheerleader corrects 'that was still 3 extra minutes then you thought you could do and it is good to pace yourself'. And so the spin session continued with the daemon on one shoulder, the cheerleader on the other both vying for my attention. The cheerleader seems false and irritating, like an overfamiliar American tourist, but I have to admit I felt a good deal happier at the end of the session then when it was just me and the daemon on my back.
Unfortunately the addition of a positive voice in my head.... I just realised I'm well on my way to a diagnosis of schizophrenia but never mind... has not translated into more training.
At the weekend I tried to convince Nick to take me for a long training ride. I imagined that Nick would be delighted by my sudden desire to join him in his spandex fetish. But alas when it comes to taking me out on an actual training ride he seems more reluctant. Perhaps the reality does not quite match the fantasy. So rather begrudgingly Nick takes me out for a steady 30 miles with some friends in Oxford. Whilst the ride was lovely, I don't think it got me any further towards my goal of 100 miles in six and a half hours.
On Tuesday I had arranged to go for an evening cycle with Becky. The weather was perfect, my bike was working, I had company, I really had no excuse not to go, but somehow the training ride ended up with me and Becky eating chocolate cake in my garden. Whilst the cake was lovely, this again gets me no further towards me goal. In fact the chocolate cake will be working against me!
Wednesday I was busy horse riding, and Friday I was in Manchester so the only day I had left for training was Thursday. OK I had no choice but to do the double - two spin sessions in one evening! I got myself psyched up, bought copious amounts of water and energy drink, I was all set, but then the second class was cancelled due to lack of interest. (It was a beautiful evening, anyone in their right mind would be out on a bike rather than in the sweaty studio so I am not surprised). Bother! Oh well, at least I managed one spin session. It was the Eastern European and her dance music marathon so I was secretly pleased that I didn't have to do 2 hours of the session. I don't think I tried as hard as I could have though, perhaps the cheerleader is too soft on me.
And then the weekend came. Friday night was spent rolling around my friends living room floor singing show tunes in an alcohol induced frenzy. Saturday was spent at a hen do, deeply regretting Friday night activities. Which only left Sunday for training. Unfortunately Nick and I had miss timed our binge drinking and he was a day behind. We had planned to spend Sunday cycling around the Isle of White but the inconsiderate timing of the Isle of White festival (this weekend) and Nicks excesses on Saturday night meant that our plans were scaled back to a 13 mile bimble around the South Downs...
...I say 13 mile bimble, but I think I should point out that the South downs, in actual fact, have an equal number of ups, which should not be underestimated. To be fair to Nick, he was a good sport in going at all as he was in no fit state. The legs were going but no one was home upstairs. Zombi Nick led me up seemingly endless hills. I puffed and panted and hauled myself up. At first I was staying fairly chipper, keeping the happy sound track of the cheerleader in my ear. As the hills rolled on this became harder. The panting changed to wheezing. Zombi Nick was struggling to read the sat nav, resulting in some sudden stops and near SPD fails which shook my confidence. The cheerleader ran out of happy phrases. The daemon noted that Zombi Nick was still not out of breath. In fact he was not perceptively breathing. Either he really was a Zombi or I was terribly unfit - not fit enough for the Surrey 100. The hills got steeper, I started to wobble. My lungs burned and could not draw in enough breath. My head felt hot and my vision darkened around the edges. If I went any slower I would fall off. I started to panic. What if I fell, I would not be able to get back up. I car could come racing round the corner and I would be unable to get out of the way. I started to really freak out when I realised that my feet where clipped in, I can't stop! In a desperate panic I tried to unclip both feet, not easy to do when you are having do use all your weight to push up the hill. My heal missed the peddled as I tried to force my right foot down and I fell sideways. PANIC. My unclipped foot stopped me hitting the floor but the damage was done. My whole body was shaking violently and I could not catch my breath. My limbs felt weak and far away and my chest and thought tightened in fear. We are now into a full blown anxiety attack. Nick managed to shake of his Zombi state and tried to calm me, but calming someone out of a panic attack is almost impossible. Luckily I am an anxiety disorder veteran and after a minute or so I managed to find the quiet corner of my brain still able to think rationally. YOU ARE HAVING A PANIC ATTACK. YOU ARE HYPERVENTERLATING THERFORE BLOWING OFF ALL THE CARBON DIOXIDE IN YOUR BODY. IF YOU CONTINUE YOU WILL FEEL WORSE AND YOUR MUSCULES WILL CONTRACT. YOU CANNOT HYPERVENTALATE IF YOU ARE CYCLING UP THE HILL. CYCLE. And so I cycled through it, and got to the top a little shaken but a good deal calmer. The rest of the ride was a bit easier, we had reached the top of the hill and were about to experience the 'downs'. The several miles of downhill back to the car were refreshing and managed to wash away my earlier panic.
But my confidence remains shaken. I need to keep training. I need to get a lot better but my fear is stopping me from just getting on my bike and riding on my own. The 100 feels like a mountain that I am going to struggle to climb.
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