So this blog was set up in 2010 to document my travels across Asia and reassure any interested parties that I was 'still alive'. Four years on and I'm feeling the need to blog again. This time I intend to prattle on about a different kind of journey: the quest to become a spandex clad cycle warrior... or worrier in my case.
My decision to enter the Surrey 100 was perhaps surprising given my complete ineptitude on a bike and my strong dislike of cycling. The blog title 'still alive!' is just as fitting for the cycling challenge as it is for traveling across Asia. I admit the entry was rash, and I've considered cancelling it on many occasions, but this is a challenge my subconscious is making me face.
The cycling thing all started when Nick - my then boy friend now fiancé - started to develop a passion for cycling. This soon developed into an obsession, near fetish, for donning lycra and destroying his crown jewels with a road bike. I realised that if I were to ever see Nick or the remnants of his crown jewels again, I would have to get back on a bike. And so back on the bike I got, and with gritted teeth I peddled desperately after him. Unsurprisingly we made it as far as the end of the road before we had the 'would you wait for me/could you hurry up' argument. So keen to find a solution to our dilemma Nick invested in a tandem. This was brilliant, Nick could peddle to his hearts content and I could be towed along nattering away to him whilst admiring the view... OK I admit I got the better end of the deal. The tandem worked out well, Nick towed me dutifully across England, France, Austria, Slovakia and Hungry. In fact we like tandems so much we are collecting them. We now have two (possibly the most pointless thing for a couple to own is two tandems but hey ho) and ridiculously have plans of building our own BAMBODEM! Alas I feel like I'm going off topic so back to the point. So yes cycling tandems was great, but gave me no real sense of achievement as Nick does the lion share of the work.
And then the Surrey 100 happened. I remember Nick steaming past with pure joy on his face as I cheered him on from the side-lines. I also remember lots of more normal well-balanced individuals trogging past with determination. A seed of an idea formed in my mind - 'what if, just for once, you took part rather than watched'. Boyed with the knowledge that Boris Johnston had managed to complete the challenged I filled in the form. After all if middle-aged well-fed Boris made it, surely I could get my slim 28 year old body round the circuit right? How hard can it be?
As it turns out quite hard.
My training thus far has been somewhat hap-hazard. Nick has built me a road bike (he really is quite lovely) and it comes complete with drop handle bars and SPD peddles. I have so far only had one SPD induced fall. I managed the clasic unclip on the left foot, but lean right when I came to a stop. The net result was a comic slow motion fall, much like a drunk at the end the night, and Nick found me collapsed on his lawn after hearing me squeak on the way down. After this incident I now unclip both feet at the slightest suggestion that we will be stopping and so I spend most of the time peddling with my heels. I have been on a couple of training rides where, to my horror, I am beginning to understand Nick's obsession with cycling. The elation at whizzing down the hills at speed with the wind in your face. The beautiful countryside rolling out ahead of you, with only the sound of insects and the constant soothing woosh of the bike in your ears. The strange calmness that can come over you after your legs settle into a constant rhythm and are warmed by the exertion of your muscles. The absolute relaxation after a hard ride where you are too exhausted to think or worry or feel. But I'm still not sold.
The thing about cycling is, for the large part, you are silent. And when I am silent, I have to spend time with myself. Cycling has made me realise what a negative human being I am. I absolutely hate my own company. So for me the real challenge for the Surrey 100 will be to shut out my inner monologue.
I have a little over 2 months before the 100 and I am woefully unprepared. Training has been set back after a cold and a head injury (not cycle related) prevented me from getting on the bike for 3 weeks. As a result Wednesdays spinning session was never going to be easy. I still had a splitting headache and ached all over from Mondays pole class (don't ask) and Tuesdays horse ride, but with only 2 months to go I daren't miss the spin class. I arrived late, due to traffic, and the room was already alive with sweeting bodies and pumping dance music when I walked in. Luckily there was a bike free near the door and I did not attract too much attention from the eastern European instructor who was to be our overlord for the next forty-five minutes. I set myself 5 minutes of easy spinning to wake up my tired and achy legs. The others were already jumping up and down to the instructors demands of 'two, three, seat'. Five minutes passed too quickly and it was soon my turn to join the torcher. 'Hill climb, add on resistance' our master announces as the beat of the dance track slows to a steady ominous rhythm. 'Six minutes position 3 in, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1' and I stand and begrudgingly begin the climb. Turns out spinning in a negative mood really brings out the worst in my inner demeans. With each stride my daemon squeaks 'lazy, week, pathetic'. I see the others pound away seemingly unaffected by the arduous task. 'Your the worst one here' goads the daemon as I feel the sweat drip from my forehead. 'You'll never make it to the end of the first 6 minutes' it chides and I feel the eyes of the other participants on me waiting for me to sit early, judging my ineptitude. I struggle on determined and make it to the end of the first 6 minutes for fear of judgment from the rest of the class (who in reality did not even see me come in). And so the next thirty-four minutes continue in much the same fashion. The horrid dance music drones on as the dominatrix instructs and the daemon whips my moral. I see me failing on a hill on the 100, collapsing into other cyclists. I see the sweeper car pick me up. I see me having to explain how I failed to friends and family. I see it all again and again and I feel like crying by the end of the class.
Needless to say I am not looking forward to going back to spinning this evening. But needs must. lets hope I find the mute button on my daemon, or at the very least they play 80s cheese instead of dance music.
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