The joy of being better

Cycling around Porto, before death hill and before my calves failed me.

When I was younger, I shared a bike with my siblings because we couldn't afford one each. I don't even remember how we got it - it certainly wasn't new and I remember it being dubiously passed by the tester who taught us cycling proficiency in school. But at least I didn't worry about it getting stolen. Cycling was never a recreational thing for me but a means of transport, necessary when you're a teenager living in a quiet town and too tight to pay for a bus fare.   

Since my teenage years, my access to cycling has been sporadic via hire bikes in tourist towns. More recently in 2016. I was in Porto for my friend's birthday. Being the naturally athletic and outdoorsy type, she was keen for us all to hire bikes and go for a cycle around the city to explore. Most preferred to forgo the cycling but a faction of us were "team bike". However what I mentally prepared in my mind as a cute pootle around the town became an uninvited endurance course. 

Firstly, an intermittent cyclist of wavering confidence on the roads in a foreign country that was stuffed with traffic saw me dangerously tailgating my friend like a BMW behind a Fiat. The friend didn't realise she was dual hand signaller for the both of us and was probably wondering why I was hanging on her back wheel like a limpet.

Secondly death hill. Otherwise known as Funicular dos Guindais. I actually paled as we approached it. Bearing in mind these hire bikes were really clunky and heavy with limited gear options, I knew there was no way I could make it. One of the guys in the group cycled to the top, then chivalrously came down to see which fair maidens (we didn't fail womenkind that day: it was bloody steep and he competes in triathlons) needed the most aid and deduced (I guess by the level of sweat and look of fear) that that person would be me and cycled my bike up to the top. 

That was an enlightening moment for me. I wanted to be a better cyclist. Not an elite hairless kind of cyclist...but better than the average.

Cue 2 months later, I've recruited a team of 4 to compete in a race, cycling 44 miles and hiking 8 mile up the tallest peak in South Wales...because entering a standard bike race would have been far too sensible.

So 4 months to train for this thing I have never done before. As mentioned, I haven't owned a bike since my quarter share during my teenage years. So I bought one.

This is me and the Pendleton, going to Richmond Park for the first time. Which I have since cycled around countless times. The appeal of the park is that the road is within the park so while you're mainly battling with Range Rovers and Jags, they are limited to 20 mph and cyclists own this park...not literally. Just there's loads of us so drivers just have to deal. I found my new death hill aka Broomfield Hill which I pushed the bike up pretty much for the first 3 months.

5 days before the race, I completed death hill and took a sweaty selfie to honour the milestone. On the hard gears too. Woop. I actually think I could do this thing.

Post race. The hardest physical thing I have ever done (I've competed in Tough Mudder and that was a piece of piss in comparison). I cried afterwards through sheer relief for that awful race being over. I trained but it was hard. We came last out of 35 teams but didn't beat ourselves up about it. On the whole, our times were good but someone (ahem) was quite focused on having a cup of tea after the cycle and before the hike and forgot it was a race.

A year after that race, I decide it's too soon to go through that pain again but was convinced to do a 50 mile race from London to Southend. I invested in a cycling top and shorts. Shit is getting real. 

This summer, I go back to THAT RACE, except this one is in the Isle of Wight and the weather was banging. We came 12th out of 26 teams and we were the 2nd best all female team out of 10. 

My outdoorsy and athletic friend who also competed in this race with me, says to me afterwards "your  journey since Porto is amazing".

And it was. I was playing the long-term game and 3 years afterwards, I can just about consume energy gels whilst cycling. It's easy to get caught in the idea of "I can always do better" but I guess my mantra has been "as long as I'm still enjoying it" which I am. And I'm looking forward to 3 years time and seeing what I have done since. 

Oh. Plus my calf muscles are glorious AF.

What have you pushed yourself to do?