Yeah, so on Monday I decided to pull out of
TCRNo5. That’s the 5th edition of the Transcontinental Race, a bike
race that goes from Belgium to Greece through 4 checkpoints. You are completely
self-supported (no mother with caravan allowed) and you plot your own route.
It’s an amazing race, one that I was super enthusiastic about being part of.
The reasons for signing up were many – peer pressure, the challenge, the
unknown, the scenery, the stretching of comfort zones… I also wanted to keep
myself in the cycling domain after my world record, and this seemed like a good
way of doing that. I also wanted to show my respect to Mike Hall, the founder
and organizer of the race, who passed away earlier this year.
But my legs had other ideas… and not just
my legs – I just wasn’t ready in every sense of the word. Physically, mentally,
practically, financially; in every way possible I was taking on too much.
Initially, I had decided to announce that I was taking on the TCR, so that I
would actually start training for it. And it worked, I did start training, and
it was going really well! Until it wasn’t. The new bike helped too... 💚
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| Nellie - my new Kinesis Tripster ATR - a thing of beauty |
I started feeling stronger and
stronger, and I thought, “I think I can do this!” until I returned to riding long
distances multiple days in a row. Then the fatigue that I’m all so familiar
with set in. I know exactly how to deal with it, I’m very well versed, however
this time I’m just not willing to. That’s the big difference from last year –
last year I wanted to get through it, the reward was worth it to me. This year,
the reward would’ve been worth it to me if I hadn’t done last year. I know, I’m
rambling, but it makes sense in my head. Simply put, I’m not ready to put
myself through that pain and fatigue again so soon, my body deserves, needs,
and wants, to recover, and I’m just not letting it. That’s where the mental
unpreparedness comes in – my resilience only stretches so far, this prospect of
prolonged pain, fatigue and, ultimately, misery, is too much for me.
I spoke to my coach, Bryan, about it all a
few weeks (possibly months) ago, and we agreed that I would do the race as a
learning opportunity, basically because he knew not to tell me I shouldn’t do
it. You see, I’m a stubborn idiot who won’t listen when people tell me I
shouldn’t do something. Unless it’s hurting someone else, I figure I should at
least try. It was only when my boss at work (who’s also into cycling) bumped in
to Bryan, and subsequently told me that he’d said I shouldn’t do it, that I
realized maybe I was taking on too much.
Beyond the fact that I don’t want to take
the pain any more, there is so much that I’d like to get sorted before taking
on such a big race – nutrition, hydration, the route, the sleeping… the list
goes on. It was all compounded by a 230-mile ride with a bivvy bag sleep that I
did, where I didn’t eat or drink enough, and I just kept going and going, until
I could get a croissant. I know, I know, it’s ridiculous, and it makes me sound
like a proper diva, but that’s all I wanted – a croissant. I think it was
because I was dehydrated and was craving something that didn’t remind me of
cardboard, like the energy bars I had available to me. The fact that I would
put off eating for about 4 hours just because I want a croissant was a clear
indicator of not being ready. If I’m riding through the Alps, I just don’t know
how many croissants I’ll find, I need to learn to eat any anything going!
And I don’t have time to fix this. I’ve
prioritized launching the Sweat Pledge website over this race, and so I should
– it is the most important thing in my life at the moment and if I am going to
make it work then I need to put my all in to it. On top of that, I’ll be doing
some speaking engagements, including a TEDx talk in November, and I have to
spend time on it. I’ve already gone down to part-time at work, now doing a
3-day week, but still there’s not enough time in the week.
So there you have it, my exhaustive list of
excuses reasons for not doing the Transcontinental. But one thing I know,
despite being gutted – it’s the right decision. This way I can take the load
off, focus on what I should be focusing on, and come back recovered, strong
and, most importantly, prepared for next year’s race.
I’ll still be there at the start line
though, waving everyone off in a passive aggressive, jealous manner. After all,
I don’t have to be happy about it, even if it is the right decision. Good luck
to all of those taking on the race!!
