There used to be a show on TV some years ago, a late night guilty pleasure. Public problems created an opportunity for its creation. The problems were usually any one of the four; a badly created tattoo, a drunken tattoo, someone had entrusted an amateur friend to draw a tattoo or a tattoo of ex lover required removal. A trio of hip and talented tattoo artists would get to work to mask and integrate. The winning design would be selected but often, this meant covering a much larger area than originally used. The increase in surface area, met with increased satisfaction and a happy customer was created.
And that’s Mallorca in summary. Not a selection of tattoo parlours but an opportunity to do a write over history and expand the area explored.
Ten years later, much has changed here. There’s still the cycle clubs, young, lean and ‘Maap-ed’, cycle couples and 2-3 times a year, retired cyclists mingling amongst those wanting a slower pace to their day by the beach or pool. However, cycling infrastructure is increasing even more rapidly. Those faithful to the start of the boom, return but, alas, tell me of deteriorating roads (not anything like the scale we see in the UK), an increase in prices and busy periods that defeat the object of visiting.
November marks the start of a drift into arm warmer weather and the skiers on roller skates, polishing up their training for the winter season.
Tens years earlier, I was such an unsure cyclist, happy to follow, completely unhappy. Photos are great liars. A smile, easy to do, harder to feel.
When there’s nothing recognisable in your past, little you identify in your future, the only way is cycling over the terrain and going a bit further beyond. A metaphorical seizure of territory and a delight in the new paths, villages and, people.
As a solo cyclist, things couldn’t be easier here. My hotel had the bike garage of dreams, hire was just around the corner and routes, easily accessible and safe (large parts of the road, sectioned off for cycle routes or cycle way paths, albeit, surfaces a little worn and gravel-like in parts).
I had the first day planned but the others were dictated by energy levels and mood. After day three, I was fully in the cycle of the nightly route planning, breakfast, early start, back by five, dinner and repeat. The experience, like all the others this year, offered adventure at every turn and a chance to experience and respect the ever changing landscape.
Often, my favourite moments came, brushing past some blades of corn, the pungent smell of rosemary from the tractor harvest and orange zest. Life comes at us in 3D, to see it, is only half the experience.
I keep saying this, fear creates our own limitations and our own frustrations. 17 years ago, I travelled the world alone, the first few days were uncomfortable, walking Hong Kong alone, by the time I’d reached Toronto, I’d realised this was the start of something but I was simply too exhausted by months of planning, walking, carrying and getting to places under my own steam. Travelling is both enlightening and exhausting for the solo traveller. Momentum too can easily be lost. You must seize it or learn again.
I’ve felt this whole year has been a relearning to travel solo again, only this time on two wheels. I much prefer this. The destination gives you purpose and the encounters, a shared smile or nod on the bike, such a powerful reminder of how this simple means of transportation can unify us.
Just as we must keep pedalling to maintain motion, I feel I must plan another solo adventure (before August 2024), not just to maintain this momentum, not to ward off a fear to start again, but there is a point, this becomes the only way to feel the world. Exploring as we did as children, finding fascination in the everyday. These are the things that are often chewed up and digested in adult life. Such a loss. When you find a way to rediscover it, nothing seems the same (and that’s a good thing).
Leaving is the most beautiful and courageous of all the action. A joy selfish perhaps, but a joy, for the one who knows how to value freedom. Being alone, without needs, strangers, foreigners and yet feel at home everywhere, and starting to conquer the world.
Isabelle Eberhardt
18 months ago, broken from yet another running injury, I got on my bike again and life changed.
Labels are interesting. If you indulge in many sports, you will often use your dominant one first. I was a runner. Since my first XC trials at 16, then joining running clubs from the age of 30 and there began my travels all over the world to compete in Marathons.
From 34, I felt marathon was my distance. The second half of the race came at 20 miles, it always does. With ultras, it was never about the clock. Strangely, past 28 miles, you get into a rhythm that could sustain you for a whole day. I had a passion for endurance. Perhaps this has impacted on my mindset to cycling.
Training for a road marathon for a time, is often brutal. Past the age of 38, tarmac and I were falling out. I remember a session with UK Marathon champion, Mara Yamauchi, a similar age to me, talking about her training off road to offset the impact of a harder surface on joints. Soon after, I headed to the hills and enjoyed a number of mountain races in Wales and the Lake District. I got injured less frequently, the views were significantly better but then, your ankles and Achilles are working under load and it was only a matter of time before another ailment.
Running was a religion, a passion for me, each injury, a painful separation and source of quality scowling. I always obeyed the weekly 10% increase rule on training load to avoid injury and yet, they were still numerous enough (5 major setbacks in 20 years) a few involving hospitalisation and many, long months of physio, sports massage and gait analysis. Anyone that tells you running is a cheap sport…
In 2021, the latest setback, plantar fasciitis, took longer than expected to heal. I’d run through the initial twinges and now I was paying the price of ignoring the sirens to stop. For most runners, stopping is not an option. By the time it had healed, I was slower than I’d started. The process of rebuilding I’ve become accustomed to, I’d always viewed as a delightful challenge, however, this time, I felt my restoration was something, certainly for the time being, I had no desire to start. During the recovery, the bike had been a deterrent against cabin fever; a runner who cannot run is a dangerous species. But what of a runner that starts to prefer cycling again?
Since 2012 I’d cycled, it had been my compromise exercise for injury, a shared but somewhat, second-placed sport in my duathlon days.
The restoration meant for my running, time was invested in my cycling. The journey was harder than I expected.
I’d sold all my bikes since racing, one remained, an old, second-hand clincher Pinarello Rokh I’d bought in 2012 from a man in Wales. He had just upgraded to a Dogma and was very particular his beloved machine went to the right home.
I’d never really lost confidence running, however, no one warns you of the confidence you can lose on a bike. In February 2022, my initial rides were 13-14mph. I drove to the park I lived a mere four miles from to begin my ride. I was terrified. How had I allowed this to happen? I set myself a goal to get competent enough again to ride with a club by summer that year.
Comparison with your past self is cruel and useless exercise. Where had the girl who chucked herself down Duathlon courses at 40mph gone? Who cares…?
My whole bike journey had seen two wonderfully inspiring teachers in Glenn and Eugenie, an encouraging journey with 700cc and two brilliant Duathlon Coaches in Ellie and Stephen. Despite all of this, I couldn’t do it alone. I needed help.
Experience does not necessarily translate into competence, particularly for those out of practise.
I moved onto making plans to meet Glenn at a cafe by a set time, now there was no backing out. I had to get there. Next, a wonderfully patient and experienced cyclist called John and together with another cycling companion, Nick, I made it back. Henry, joined in, suggested mountain biking, the modern cure for bike confidence and handling skills. It worked.
JohnMountain biking in Wales
My first ride back with 700cc was a fine mix of familiarity and fear, quickly evaporating with each mile. There is something quite wonderful about club routes. The destination is one thing but it is the journey; a full blown sensory overload, a child-like delight, an escape, caffeine, cake, discussion, a sense of belonging and camaraderie into the mix that makes a group ride. We all come back a little lifted by it all.
700cc @ The Cheese Shed
The bike independence I experienced this summer was actually created by a whole group of associations. Without them, the pedals wouldn’t have moved and the sheer pleasure of riding, fully realised.
It took me 8 months of consistent cycling to get anywhere near being able to keep up on Saturday rides and a further 6 before I realised, I’d rather keep my investment in cycling rather than jeopardising this to achieve equal gains in running. In this commitment, I bought two new bikes.
Running and cycling are honest sports. There is no hiding, effort in = effort out. Given I’d reduced my running effort I’d have to concede and be happy with the outcome. The ability to do any sport is a gift. What you consider mediocrity, another yearns for. We do not realise our luck to do this. It’s a stabilising thought when the minor cycle hiccups or discontentment about our weather surface.
I don’t know about you, but the last few years, despite being an outdoors person, left me wanting for home comforts more than usual. There is nothing wrong with this, however, for me, it was completely out of character. Getting on my bike was a series of hurdles. My initial return left me frustrated with all the kit and preparation. It would be easy to u-turn after remembering water bottles and the Garmin. I note a few occasions, in full kit, I had a change of heart and decided against it.
Once out the door, I considered where the route could be cut short in the event it was not going to plan. There’s a similar 10 minute rule in running if the motivation is waning, you go out, easy pace and if after 10 minutes, you do not want to continue… well, that never happens. The 10 minutes act as the diving board, you are here now. You might as well jump.
The major source of frustration was myself, where had this urge to bolt really originated? Activities I once found joy in, now, replaced with excuses. Weight training provided a necessary and stabilising force. It continues to be central to my training. All activities involve a strong core, decreasing strength with age is a reality but it doesn’t need to become fully realised with intervention.
I’m not sure when it happened. Perhaps it was our trip to Gran Canaria in February, exactly a year after I’d committed to consistently cycling. A few rides really had challenged my limits at that time. Is joyous boundary pushing possible? That’s how I’d describe it; narrow ridges, uneven surfaces, crazy elevation. In all seriousness, I loved it but a few toys were well and truly pushed from the pram before reminding myself of the futile nature of mental tantrums.
Gran CanariaGran Canaria en route to The Valley of the Tears
I’m not sure why I even required the celebration of another decade to excuse my extravagance, book a series of cycle challenges throughout 2023 (two more await). Confidence breeds confidence.
Stelvio
Returning to my reluctance to get out the door, I’d like to say it has not returned, occasionally, it reminds me how easy it is to choose tiredness, work, other household chores or other over a moment I rarely regret.
This summer, I spent almost 6.5 weeks consistently cycling abroad, only two of these involved Henry.
As H drove off back to Denver airport, I wondered what I had done. I’d booked this adventure for almost a year and now it was here, I questioned my decision.
We all know ourselves better than any friend or stranger. I allowed myself to feel the unease and then, that afternoon I drafted a plan. With action, it would be temporary.
Brainard Lake, COGold Hill, CO
For almost 16 years I’d lived alone, I liked it this way. I was fiercely independent. Relationships, yes, but I would always maintain my space. Henry changed that. He filled the space with interesting conversation and a reassuring presence and the world outside, with adventure. We provided a catalyst for each other, exploring the world with trainers and wheels. Boulder was filled with our past visits and this made making my own way initially, a hurdle. To seek beyond.
The process of designing rides, turning up to join Boulder cycle club, making new friends, is amplified when alone but then, the impact is too.
Post-Ride Drinks with Boulder Cycle Club @ Twisted Pine Brewing Company
I remember one solo ride to Carter Lake, suddenly, the sky, smeared with darkened purple hues, roared with thunder. Colorado skies were impressively dramatic. The 30 degree heat had suddenly given way to marble-sized hailstones, later, heavy rain and I found shelter for sometime under the nearest tree. I felt once again, for the first time in years, a sense of comfort, alone. I loved the anonymity, human insignificance amongst the backdrop of the Colorado mountains.
Carter Lake, CO
I had faith, patience would reward. Half an hour later, I was on my way and within 8 miles, the sun had seized control over the threatening weather pattern I had seen earlier.
Why do people ride bikes? This is an important question. As important as why people run. Motivations and purpose are so variable but both sports are not dissimilar with the often, evangelical appreciation and life affirming benefits of a repeated action.
During my time in Colorado, I’d seen two bike documentaries essentially trying to answer this. Whether career or hobby, it was satisfying to see a packed auditorium of cyclists with their own journeys to view them. It reminded me of the profound effect, for some, the bicycle really can change lives, save lives and sadly, take lives.
Perhaps I’d underestimated the significance back then when I’d considered it a temporary substitute to my running. You have to arrive at it in your own time, people may suggest cycling or like one of the characters in the cycle documentary, ‘The Engine Inside’, Janice Tower.
Janice Tower
At 40, Janice’s husband had bought her a bike, however, it was not until her 50s she began to cycle, completing another 350 mile solo race in the snow at 60. You sensed she enjoyed the calm, nature and surprising herself with what was possible, she was fearless and utterly unstoppable. This particular character, left an imprint and I stored it away, with all the others for what was to come.
Just as with running, the cycling love story is not instant, one moment you’re cycling and the next minute, you are choosing bike shops over any other shopping choice, viewing the world as potential Garmin route, designing your life around your next ride and buying bike magazines for the n+1. However, this year, it was not just this. It was the journey, in glorious isolation, just enough to soak in a landscape I never tired of and the company of my new, American friends. That was the first time I considered touring.
Gold Hill
Many of my cyclist friends are old hands at this. On my return, I decided to start small, then expand. Summer confidence is often like sand through your fingers. If you don’t seize the moment, some of it will be gone. There are adventures in the everyday but the larger scale they become, a blank sheet of paper, maps and scribbles provide some starting points.
Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.
Helen Keller
They say as we grow older, our desire for risk taking decreases and we seek comfort in the familiar and reliable (perhaps, this is something to do with seeing the dangers ahead of us!) It is said this is due to the drop in dopamine levels as we age.
This summer, 1300 miles and 84,000ft later, I’m not the same person that waved goodbye to H, questioning my decision, all but temporarily. Something has shifted, the bicycle has retrieved my sense of adventure, the unifying power of what brings us to the sport, a childlike exploration of one road over another and my belief in myself as a cyclist. I’d come to cycling under a cloud, a pathway back into another sport, a way to empty the mind. Now it provides a true solace and a exhilarating purpose to explore the world in the moment, all my senses awakened.
Gorges cafe stop – The French AlpsNCAR, COTop of Flagstaff, CONCAR views, COModBoulder Sunday Cycle – coffee gathering, Boulder, COCol de la Ramaz, Morzine, France with H
Descending from my climb today for a right turn onto Lee Hill Drive, I came across my first ‘Ghost Bike’. After watching the documentary ‘The Engine Inside’ a week ago, cycle lawyer, Megan Hottman talked about her own experiences of being hit by a car and the increasing trend to mark fatalities with the ‘Ghost Bike’. Seeing one on my ride was another matter. For any road user, but particularly cyclists, it’s a sobering moment. They are a message to drivers not giving the 3ft required by law, driving under the influence and at speed. They are a message to the cyclists warned of descending at speed (as in this case, into a sharp, right turn).
Alejandro Acosta was 39, his wife was expecting their first child. Details, this matters to no one, however, I’ve come to think over the years, drivers have forgotten that under the umbrella term, ‘cyclist’, we are mothers, fathers, wives, husbands, students, scientists, brothers, sisters, etc I’d read somewhere that within the psychology of the driver, the helmet/kit erases all character, dehumanises.
Ghost bikes have cropped up all over the world (including the UK), there’s a website dedicated to their location and the tragic fatalities they lost. I noticed it required updating, Alejandro’s loss in 2021 would bring Boulder’s total to 5 is the last three years.
This may seem a low number but even one, is one too many. Boulder is not complacent about its fatalities, each involving a large-scale reassessment and restructuring (at great cost) for the community.
Vision Zero in Boulder County aims to eliminate all serious and fatal road traffic incidents with increased infrastructure by 2035. As mentioned, spending on improving cycle lanes and the creek area for cyclists is probably one of the best I’ve seen out of Europe. However, some of the fatalities occurred within these lanes. It seems alcohol, sun glare, both turning right, turning left are dangers to be aware of.
Boulder does everything possible to make cycling an enjoyable experience for the cyclist, whilst keeping roads flowing for vehicles.
Next Wednesday is Boulder’s ‘cycle to work’ event. From 7:00-9:00a.m, many local businesses will be offering free breakfast to help workers and school children on their way.
Boulder Community Cycles are also promoting the event. The bike shop is no ordinary bike shop. It’s full of donated, secondhand bikes to make cycling accessible to all. It regularly holds talks, maintenance classes, a free space for anyone to fix their bike (if they are lacking the necessary tools to do it).
Equipped with this awareness, cycling is enjoyable. There are a lot of lone, female cyclists (more than I tend to see out in the UK). Perhaps like me, they feel safer but your guard is never completely dropped. Even as as a runner. Risk is both the lure and the lesson.
Exposed to the elements, it’s the risk we take to experience views that have made me both breathless in elevation and in awe of the rugged and monumental scale of the landscape.
Two wheels and a pair of trainers have taken me far in Boulder County for my four visits, particularly this one.
Over the years I’ve pushed myself to run faster, cycle faster and recover faster, particularly in the run up to races. However, I often ask myself, in the blur of speed, what did I notice? What did I see? Forever conscious of the clock from sport into work, imprisoned by the limits sometimes self-imposed.
Longmont Half Marathon July 2023 – 1st in AG
This visit is odd in many ways. My life is normally a series of deadlines the post-pandemic busyness has given me. It’s also a case of snatching moments when I can ride. So imagine when your diary is a relatively blank slate, every day can be a ride day (if I want it to be). It sounds idyllic but coming from a mindset of finding space to suddenly filling space is not an easy transition.
I have two more weeks here, it’s not retirement, it’s not a slow, phased move into a slower pace of life, after working many, many 16-18 hour day weeks in my job this year, it necessary. I’ve mentioned before how I find it hard to switch off, I’ve come to enforce the art of nothing, the art of riding my bike, where? I don’t care, the art of connection and the simple pleasure of being able to say, in this rare moment, I have time.
The Boulder people I’ve come to notice, run fast, cycle fast, love and live like it’s their last day BUT, boy, they walk slow! I didn’t get it at first, every age were in on the ambling thing. I was clearly still in ‘London’ mode of the power walk.
However, I soon realise in 34 degree heat, recovery from morning activity and with the mountains drawing your attention, it’s foolish. You soon get into the ambling thing and before you know it, you’re not that impatient Brit on a mission. What mission?
There’s plenty of trails that will drain the last from your legs (if your lungs don’t give way sooner) and pace line cycle groups who will drop you in a flash if you either choose the wrong group or are not feeling it, but walking? Stop for a moment and everyone is still there. Slowness is necessary.
I’ve picked up more in my walks than any run or bike ride could give me; restaurants, bars, odd conversations, landmarks, brave souls taking huge rubber rings into the rapids, a combination of the smell of watermelon and patchouli so reminiscent of Boulder, the only place you can buy watermelon and basil sorbet whilst having your chakras realigned (including Reiki for your dog). Hey, I’m not knocking it. I love it all. The point is, you don’t notice if you don’t slow down, look up and explore. It’s taken me two weeks to get here. I’m certain it will take two minutes to suck me back into the turnstile of life’s ‘to dos’, I hope not. I feel calmer, happy as I can be (without Henry) and that’s worth more than gold many came to pan for in the 1800s.
Incidentally, a little trivia, the largest Gold nugget was found here in 1899, it weighed an impressive 19 ounces (539 grams to the nearest whole gram).
So, that slower pace, may just be rubbing off on me…
Cycling is a universal language, for those of us who ride a bike of any form, we’ve come to understand the connection with the road and landscape, is also part of the attraction. If you’ve ever felt in the UK, your pecking order in the road hierarchy is often in the gutter, imagine roads three times wider, trucks reminiscent of Stephen King’s ‘Duel’ and a landscape that could swallow your insignificance up in one bite. The Rockies have a habit of doing that. The vastness is as beautiful as it is brutal. I’m no expert, this is my fourth visit, albeit my longest, but here’s a few things I’ve noticed.
1/It’s not flat – not that you’d expect it to be in the Rockies. Sure, there are flattish routes around Boulder Reservoir (training ground for the Boulder Ironman) but it’s the Flagstaff’s, Mountain Evans and NCAR repeats of this world why people come to train in mile high city.
If you are looking for something particularly challenging, I’m told the Magnolia Hill Climb is the hardest:
Magnolia Ascent – From base of Magnolia (Magnolia and Boulder Canyon) to summit just before the end of the pavement. -Total elevation – 2,170 ft Length – 4.5 miles – Average Grade – 9.1% (17%) Rating – 2.40 (cat 1) – Course Record Mark Schwab 30:25
I’m working on improving my Flagstaff time with a weekly ascent and eventually, superflag. After my experiences in Gran Canaria and Italy, it doesn’t compare but somehow, working at this elevation and dry conditions, really challenges the physical norms.
2/Wide rims are unwise – you hear a lot of talk by clubs about ‘this ride is for skinny tyres’, yes, 23s are still de rigueur here in Colorado but by the skinny tyre they also mean the skinny rim. Why, may you ask? Today’s ride, I was bashed from side-to-side on my 60mm Hunt’s with strong winds from all directions. Don’t let that sunny day convince you of a calm day ahead. I realised the 20mm rims were having all the fun.
3/Although dry, it’s dirty – you and your bike get covered in dirt. You only have to look at the cars to see the accumulation of dust is not going to magically avoid you or your bike.
4/You could be cycling 10-15 minutes before anyone passes you – back to the vast open spaces again. Country lanes are still not much narrower than the main roads. Sometimes another cyclist, cycling in the opposite direction is just as frequent as a car. There’s something to be said for that solitude.
5/The cafe stop is law – wasn’t it ever thus? Only, cycling specific cafes are in abundance, all with bike racks (some inside), cycle maintenance tools and more coffee choices than you can throw a stick at. My favourite, ‘Mountain Fountain’, is a den of home baked, artisan foods, deli and it’s there to satisfy every coffee addict’s cycle hit with the local OZO roasters. Here are a few more of my favourites:
– Rapha Boulder – A big store and cafe with a regular, popular ride schedule.
– Spruce Confections – has three branches but my favourite is conveniently located close to University Bicycles. Fresh, hand-made cakes, salads & sandwiches with coffee that will not disappoint.
– Moxie’s Bread Co. – multiple locations but the one in Louisville is a favourite amongst local cycle clubs. Artisan breads, sandwiches and local roasters coffee.
6/The cycling infrastructure is not perfect but it’s impressive – The Boulder Valley has over 300 miles of bike way and 96 miles of cycle lanes, and, it’s not over. More is in the pipeline. Amsterdam was used as a model of inspiration. Millions of dollars of investment poured into the creation of safer cycling. Cameras and signs, remind drivers of the 3 metre rule but in creating a near perfect system, there are always exceptions. First, the distances between places after a night out and the abundance of legalised cannabis creates the slight possibility your driver may be over the limit in more ways than one way (despite the heavy fines). Only a few days before Henry’s departure back to the UK, we witnessed a car on the opposite side of the road swerve into a dustbin, splintering pieces all over the tarmac. Also take into account the size of the vehicles, cars are often large SUVs to survive the harsh winters and rugged landscapes. You’d think the extra space would allow them to easily give you 3m by law you require, but occasionally, this is not always the case.
7/Cycling courtesy is ALWAYS on offer – you are never alone. Stop for more than a few minutes, and there’s always a cyclist asking if you are ok.
8/Cycling shops are in abundance – University Bikes, Rapha, Trek and Full Cycle (to name but a few). They are always busy, well stocked and can always squeeze you in if you really need them.
9/Mind the wildlife – in the UK, if you narrowly avoid a stray dog or cat during your ride, it’s a rare occurrence, added to which, they are quite harmless. Moose, wild dogs, rattlesnakes and bears are no stranger to the Boulder County roads and a collision is to be avoided at all costs. I’ve seen all but the bear on my rides so far (although, one night in the apartment, our locked bins were put to the test by a big, brown bear. Thankfully, they gave up and strolled down the road with the arrogance one has come to expect of a few coming off the foothills in search of the careless disposal of waste food.
10/You are spoilt for choice for Cycling Clubs and group rides.
11/Watch for the gravel – they call it ‘wash’. Despite most roads having wide cycle lanes, the debris often washes up here, at speed, it can be fatal.
12/Nearby Golden has its own cycle lawyer, Megan Hottman, a lawyer/pro-cyclist who chose to specialise in cycle law. Megan has been a supporter of building safer Colorado infrastructure and featured in a documentary I saw a few days ago, ‘The Engine Inside’ about why people cycle.
13/Left turn/right turn – Yes, there are cycle lanes, but if you are going straight on, stay in your designated lane or risk a car turning right on you. Equally, when you need to go straight on, a few cars chance their luck with a left turn, beware!
14/Old School/New Cool – There’s an abundance of the old, steel-framed, super skinny tyres, disc wheels are setting in but clinchers are still in abundance. Many bike shops, ‘University Bikes’ being one, fill their shop with them, they are as much museums as suppliers of cutting edge technology in cycling.
15/The Electric Bike Revolution – this has taken off since my last visit. My ride with Broomfield local, Gerry Stephenson, demonstrates how electric can assist an already strong and experience cyclist in his 70s up the steepest of climbs. For this reason, every age, size and ability is out. Accessibility is for all. That’s got to be a good thing.
16/Brewing Companies – There are over 20 brewing companies in Boulder. Sanitas, Upslope and Twisted Pine are often meeting points for club rides. Ride, coffee, ride & beer seems to be the way.
Take care of your body. It’s the only place you have to live. Jim Rohn
Ever since my secondary school cross country league days, fitness has been my life. University and my first job, it waned a bit, however, for the last 20 years 4-6 sessions a week has been the norm.
I’m no stranger to strength training. I’ve acknowledged it’s contributed to keeping me injury free, particularly when training for GB. When I’ve not attended to it, I’ve often found, particularly my running, has sought out the weakness and injury soon follows.
However, a week before the end of 2022, I decided to conduct an experiment. Commit to 5 strength sessions (using progressively heavier dumbbells) a week for 12 weeks and then drop to 3 as the lighter mornings and evenings prompt me to enjoy the outdoors on my bike.
Perhaps, being not many months away from 50 had something to do with it but sleep, digestion and stress figured too. Work has become uncontainable. I’ve said yes to more than I should have (the last few years, my business took a dip that almost saw me ending it altogether but now, the recovery is busier than pre-pandemic). I’m extremely lucky.
I’ve always felt sport has given me the necessary mental and physical energy for all aspects of my life.
Sport just makes you feel better, younger too. However, I’m under no illusion there’s something else at work here. I’m not kidding myself. Women are susceptible to bone weakness, low mood, weight gain to name a few as they age. I wondered if by upping the intensity, I could alleviate the possibility of any of this happening.
Exercise and a strong relationship with Henry was a gift in lockdown but I would be a liar if I said I’ve come out of this unharmed. Mentally, I’ve found the last two years hugely damaging. Some days I do find it incredibly hard to motivate myself and looking at photographs pre-pandemic seem like saying goodbye to fragments that appear lost, at least for now.
Travel has been hugely rewarding. Cycling and running on new terrain in our usual adventuring way. When you have the perfect travel partner, the map is a place to dream. We have plenty of adventures planned this year. What do they say? Purpose and something to look forward to? Yes, it’s in abundance.
Anyway, I’m 6 weeks into this strength training regime. I was not expecting anything remarkable but I was wrong. Here’s a few observations:
1/You realise your weaknesses and it’s pretty humbling. You realise which side/parts are weaker and try to correct imbalances.
2/Progress is rapid and together with upping my protein intake, you feel so much stronger. Your technique, reps and weights increase.
3/ Throw away your scales. You don’t need them but know your clothes will fit you better, digestion will improve along with sleep (mine is shocking but improving a little).
4/I realised, despite my previous strength training, I’d lost so much of the gains. Starting was hard but now I look forward to my x5 Mon-Fri sessions. Starting is the hardest part of any sport.
5/The body changes you get with strength training is greater than any running or cycling I’ve engaged with.
6/It’s 30-60 minutes of time to switch off. One of best investments of time is to yourself, your future health.
7/You can always do more than you think.
All of this made me think about being as healthy as I can for life. I’ve just finished watching the wonderful documentary ‘Romantic Road’ on Netflix. A couple in their 60s embarking on a journey they have once taken to India in his father’s old 1936 Rolls Royce.
There’s a clip towards the end of the documentary they reflect on their ability to keep adventuring together. In one poignant moment, his wife, comments on the times they have together are to be celebrated, they are not infinite or indefinite.
Whether you exercise or not, that lack of infinity of time remains. However, we are told of the mental and physical rewards of exercise.
Henry and I have an endless trail of worn trainers and inner tubes, the remains of time where sport is at the very heart of it. It defines a large part of who we are and who we will be. In casting that glimpse to a future unknown, I just hope we will be able to live it as spritely as possible. There’s still so much to do and so many more adventures to have. You could say, we’ve only just started.
“Joss chose to pit himself heroically against the mountains not just because they were there, but because his heart was there too.” (Askwith 2004)
I’ve gone through a shift in my running passion. It happens to many of us; exposure, age, maturity (not necessarily the same thing) and feeling unsustained from your current running experiences are just some of the many reasons this may happen to us. It’s not always all or nothing, most of us thrive on a mixture of styles and terrain. Often, variety supports a chosen focus. Many brilliant track and marathon runners have cross country origins.
Running started for me in the mud. XC trials for school and that was it. Since then, club XC and purposefully planned holidays to Boulder, CO, Iceland and Wales to run rugged landscapes and at elevation. However, it is in our recent return visits this year to the Lake District, I feel the overwhelming draw to those mountains and surrounds.
Lockdown prompted runners to rediscover their immediate location and every possibility within it. I did feel wanting for a change of scene after that. I also felt the overwhelming need to run to remind myself of what is possible, a small part of you expired on the terrain in return for a sight rewarded to those willing to scale a little higher. The hills, many millions of years beyond the collision of plates, reminding us of the flicker we are here, therefore, what better way but to burn.
Ever since our trip last summer and our first, official fell race I’m hooked. Our journey home consisted of booking the next adventure and we’ve done it again for May 2022.
In attempt to distill exactly what it is that makes the hills so irresistible is first and foremost the challenge of something that provides effort to the point of exhaustion (in elevation and concentration in your footing) and then, finding a small pocket of recovery to descend rather than stop.
I also crave the simplicity of it all. One of fell running’s historical greats, Joss Naylor started training in his boots and fashioned shorts from his trousers. Fuelling his runs on fruit cake and Guinness. Fruit cake remains the sustenance of many a fell runner. Before the time running became a complicated science of gadgets, gels and isotonic drinks. Author of ‘Feet in the Clouds’ Richard Askwith talks about this simplicity in his article calling for a Back to nature: a modest proposal for a runners’ revolution
There’s something quite satisfying about running for the simple joy of running. There’s no technical t-shirt, medal or post-run snack. For no more than £12, you might get a piece of homemade cake or banana. Based on the increasing cost of some run events today, I can run 3-5 fell runs for the same price.
There has been a worrying trend (and I know some of my friends that have recently got into running feel this) that you’re not a real runner until you’ve run a marathon. This of course, is simply not true. Distance is only one way to differentiate a run. Terrain, elevation, temperature and speed are the others. Having run many marathons all over the world, it’s the dizzy heights of a 7000-9000ft run over 7-10 miles that fills me with both fear and delight.
It will be an experiment to see the impact all this climbing might have when I eventually try my first flattish road race late this winter.
Until then, there will be many more days of banging the clods of mud out of my shoes and discovering our limits are never truly tested until we push ourselves to find them.
‘When voices of reason tell us to turn back, we are reminded by what others have achieved; we groan, dig deep and push on because we want to be like them. Why are we drawn back, time and time again, hungry gluttons for punishment? This ‘type-B’ enjoyment that we find in the mountains is difficult to describe or explain.’
Repetitions/Intervals/Speed Work Training are a little like the running equivalent Groundhog Day, only unlike Groundhog Day, if you do it right, the programme will be the same, but you will be forever changed.
The simple truth is, if you want to run faster, you need to run faster. It will be uncomfortable, it will hurt, your mind will protect you from all the possible damage this ridiculous act will cause, don’t listen. If you dedicate yourself to this quality training 1-2 a week, there will be a point that tempo run is now your easy pace, breathlessness kicks in at a different stage. Repetitions/Reps a metaphor for life; practise makes perfect (or at the very least, improved).
First, however, you need to navigate all the excuses and loopholes your mind provides as an escape route. Natural instinct is to follow, but improvement comes from our own mantra and talking ourselves into a big u-turn, something that is never easy, was never meant to be, but certainly, that is the point.
Starting to integrate speedwork into any training programme is the difficult part. The early sessions are painful, improvement is not instant but give it a month or so and all that work can show you some real benefits.
There are many myths around what speed work is and why you would do it. Quite simply, it is for every ability, speed and terrain. It should be a staple part of everyone’s training.
Warm up
I follow Mike Trees on Instagram and there are range of warm ups I have acquired from him and my coached training over the years. Active, rather than static stretches. After a one mile, slow warm up, my favourites are High Knees, Butt Kicks, Walking lunges and Side Steps, followed by drills (high cadence running of no more than 100 metres to prepare you body for speed). This all takes time. I often spend twenty minutes on this but I know runners who spend much longer. It is more than a warm up but supports good running form too.
The variety is endless in distance (all of the same or building a pyramid session), number of repetitions, elevation (flat, hills; up and downhill or steps) and recovery.
In my current favourite running book, Pete Magill’s ‘Fast 5k‘, a man who coached many masters athletes and at the age of 47, posted a 5k time of 14:50 and set the US masters 10000 metres 2006 record at 31:27. He’s an interesting character. Drink, food and drugs played a part in his life and each time, he has managed to pull something spectacular from his recovery. His advice is simple; put away your watch, listen to your body and if you’ve done the best you could do rep 14 of 15 reps, why do the 15th? Leave it for the next session.
Pete talks about the benefits of 5k for every distance; goals and challenges are not just about distance but a faster performance over a shorter one too. VO2 max potential is increased the longer the rep (2 mins plus).
An athlete with a very different approach to Magill’s, was Zatopek. In 1954 Emil Zatopek was the first runner to break 29 minutes in 10000 metres. He was considered to be one of the greatest runners in the 20th century. What was his secret? Intervals. Often brutal in their nature; 100 fast x 400m with 150m jogs in between. His often pained expression matched the extremes of his programme. Fellow athletes thought it mad, but it worked. Experiments involving ingesting dandelions and carrying loads were less successful!
Running is far more than putting one foot in front of the other. We are often told it takes 10000 hours of consistent practise to make an expert; cycling, languages, cookery, almost anything you can think of. Why not running? The simplicity of running well is locked within running form and the commitment to push ourselves beyond what is comfortable in the hope that one day it will seem easy, this is why any expert would practise.
When my life can seem chaotic, it is this discipline I need and the after effects can be equally rewarding.
For me, it is an essential part of my week, for mind, body, running gains, running form and the mystery of the unknown; just when you think you know yourself, it is these moments you discover more, a lesson, new found strength or something else. It’s a discovery worth embarking on.
“..the brain and the body are fundamentally intertwined”
Alex Hutchinson
Here’s something I now ponder. Having received quality coaching twice in my running life so far and the remainder filled with the advice of great running friends and books and the importance of quality sessions; hills, intervals, tempo, long run, rest and so on, I seemed to have bypassed the greatest tool in a runner’s arsenal, mindset.
As previous blog posts have highlighted, I’ve always beenaware of thelimiting nature of my previous race avoidance. Thisessentially led to great training and poor racing for a number of years.
There is a limit to what running can help you escape. I would now argue, to run well, rather than run to free your mind, you need to be free in the first place and then your mind will happily follow and promise you somethingyou’dnever quite expected.
1920s, the Nobel Prize-winning physiologist A.V Hill introduced the idea of VO2 max in performance but the last 10-15 years of sports performance research, it is thought the mind is possibly even more powerful. Certainly, scientist, Tim Noakes knew this.
From this refocusing from muscle to brain, I was recommended Alex Hutchinson’s book, ‘Endurance‘ by a running friend. Alex has worked with Nike behind the highly secret sub-2 hour record.
Tricks such as smiling when it gets hard can rapidly change mindset and performance (and why not? It’s meant to be fun, or why would we do it?) Alex Hutchinson reports,
“What seems to be happening is that you’re altering your perception of effort. You’re not changing your lactate levels or your heart rate, just changing how your brain interprets those signals.“
The science of the mind is split between two arguments:
1/ The mind is your centralgovernor, fundamentally, your brain is just trying to protect you, and it does this by trying to anticipate what’s going to happen. So if you go running on a hot day, you go slower, not because your core temperature is at a dangerous zone, but because your brain is worried that it’s going to reach a dangerous zone and you’re going to overheat and cause damage.
2/ Marcora’s research that states that endurance is is the balance between how hard it feels and how hard you’re willing to make it feel, between perceived effort and motivation. So everything that’s going on in your body — your core temperature, your oxygen levels dropping — all of that is important only insofar as it makes exercise feel harder to you, and at a certain point, it’ll reach the maximum you’re willing to tolerate and you’re willing to slow down or stop.
However, there is always that important synergy between psychological and physiological and physical characteristics that go into defining your limits.
Hutchinson says, “…there’s probably some degree of benign masochism that the people who love to go out and run 100 miles a week are not just physically capable but mentally capable of doing that. For whatever reason, their brains are wired in a way that they get more of a kick out of it than the rest of us. Whatever brain chemicals make you feel satisfied, we don’t all get them in the same way, some people are inherently more eager for new experience or novelty or risk.” Perhapsthat’s it.
As 2019 began Isuddenly started to truly enjoy racing, I didn’t have to talk myself into it. By early summer, Ifelt whatever I had been carrying into that race, had disappearedforever, training simply raised my confidence. When racing, rather than my usual experience of training never translating to a race, neverdemonstratingbenefit. I feel mentally free now of that limiting factor and benefits of this have been particularlyevident in the last few weeks of training and racing for me.
Mentally, I was comfortablethroughout, certainly the last race. I was running well within myself and recovery was quick. I’m excited by what this could mean if I pushed myself a littlefurther.
As runners we are motivated by world stage performances, local club runners with inspirational records and histories, partners and friends, but in the end, on the start line, it’s just you, your training and your mindset. When all three work together, that is where, you can make a positive change.
This is something I’m only starting to realise. As a result, I feel I’m exploring a new road after 16 years of consistent running since my school XC days. I’m running better than I did in my 30s and I wonder at 46, if the best is yet to come? Certainly, in Datchet Dashers, there are many examples of high performance late 40s+ and it is a reminder to me, anything is possible if you keep yourself healthy and this includes your mindset.
As a runner there is often a feeling that in exchange for the hours invested on tarmac, trail and mud (and of course, eating healthily and moderating our alcohol intake), not only will we look and feel better, cheating the years of past generations and benefitting from huge advances in health but, we are invincible to any disease of age (aside from accepting our genetics). Is it a runner’s delusion to expect something that makes us feel alive to preserve life? Sometimes. For me, certainly.
This summer was like no other. Despite the long days of sunshine, there were clouds and even running struggled to remove them.
Late spring I’d had a bout of anaemia I was still trying to recover from in Boulder, USA. There was also the issue of my stomach, irritated by most things but particularly 8 miles into my half marathon pb in Colorado. Up until late June I felt I’d made a full recovery and increasing speed and more pbs followed.
It was not until our anniversary weekend in the New Forest that my body reminded me no more running progress would be forthcoming and I’d need to take note. Running does this; it may remind us why we are alive but it also highlights every ailment too. If you didn’t run, you may never discover that nagging pain.
In the New Forest I felt like I’d returned to my anaemia, extreme exhaustion (sleeping 10-12 hours a day), there were stabbing stomach pains, indigestion, 3 kilos lost in weight and fluctuating bowel habits.
On our return and a few more miserable days, I booked an appointment with the doctor and there started my two week referral to rule out bowel cancer.
Recently married, full of ambition and dreams, I saw the potential of these being at risk, at first rather than deal with this in a calm and measured way I’d impressed upon my students and friends, I learnt something about myself. I spent the first day feeling distraught. The mere suggestion of this word (and still being relatively young). Why? Exercising 5-6 times a week, eating healthily, never smoked, drinker in moderation, relatively good health genes but perhaps could sleep less erratically and have removed some unnecessary stressful moments. Why? This of course is the great runner’s delusion; we can mitigate risk but we cannot remove it entirely.
Our country still has a problem with below the waist health concerns. It seems some of us are still willing to die for our embarrassment. I think you need to ditch any feelings of the above at times like these and just take action. Bowel cancer, once the disease of ‘old people’ is now becoming a concern amongst the young. Increasingly, these concerns are taken seriously at any age. Bowel Cancer UK provides lots of helpful information on the key symptoms. Beyond this, don’t carry on searching, the internet can be a very dark place for self diagnosis.
Bleeding from your bottom and/or blood in your poo
A persistent and unexplained change in bowel habit
Unexplained weight loss
Extreme tiredness for no obvious reason
A pain or lump in your tummy
It has been published in many sources that running can add three years to your life. In the Harvard health blog it continued to say,
‘The authors had previously published data from over 55,000 people followed for over 15 years, and found that running was associated with a 45% reduced risk of death from heart attacks and strokes, as well as a 30% reduced risk of death from anything. This benefit was seen even with as little as five to 10 minutes a day of running, even at paces as slow as six miles per hour, and after accounting for age, sex, weight, and other health risk variables (like high blood pressure, diabetes, smoking, and alcohol consumption).
These findings made sense, as other studies had found that in addition to reducing the risk of cardiovascular disease, running also lowered the chances of developing cancer and neurologic diseases (such as Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s).’
The benefits are seen up to 4.5 hours a week, anything over that, secures no added benefit to our health.
After a few days of feeling sorry for myself and a whole summer break ahead of me, I decided to use running as my ever faithful escape. There’s nothing quite like a beating heart and a heavy breath to remind you of the joy of running and at times, the ability to forget that cloud and even convince yourself, later investigations surely would not deliver the worst case scenario. I was a happy, alive, and a runner!
My return visit to Iceland reminded me how soothing nature can be. I’ve written many blog posts about this in the past; we are soothed by nature. My brother tells me in Norway, doctors prescribe a walk in the woods for many ailments. Only now we are beginning to understand it’s healing properties. In Iceland, the vast stretches of relatively uninhabited landscape, unforgettable trail running and geothermal pools provided just that.
The power of positive thinking is a valid one. We often can’t change a moment of our lives but we can change the way we react/think about it. Stress and negative thinking creates more illness and lost work days. We are told,
‘negative attitudes and feelings of helplessness and hopelessness can create chronic stress, which upsets the body’s hormone balance, depletes the brain chemicals required for happiness, and damages the immune system. Chronic stress can actually decrease our lifespan.
By the end of summer, I’d convinced myself it was probably nothing. Perhaps foolish, but running gives you that. It reminds you of the power of the present, gratitude we can actually take this breath and enjoy this experience.
The Saturday before my procedure, I ran a 10k. My first 5k, sub-20 minutes but lost it all on the last 10k. For me, it was a time to be around lovely, supportive people and remind myself, that sub-20 is still achievable whatever the outcome.
So today I celebrate life and the relationships that allow you to offload and just be you in your strong and weaker days. After three hours in hospital I was told no cancer or polyps were found. It all looked healthy. Biopsies were taken but these were simply to look at why I might not be absorbing nutrients and iron. Half sedated, you cannot take it in. Later you realise no offer you ever receive in life will match a clean bill of health. I am a wealthy runner. However, it’s the only time, I’ve not been able to celebrate with a run, perhaps in a day or two.
It’s been seven weeks of uncertainty and I realise I’m lucky. I don’t know how people live with a disease long term but I know great strength and gratitude of each moment must form a large part of their day.
Runners make time for running. Cyclists make time for cycling. It’s a pastime, an odd expression but its derivation comes from to make time ‘pass’ agreeably and with enjoyment. Whatever it is that allows you to pass time agreeably, do that. Your dearest friends want to see you happy, they won’t mind.
Any last breaths are hopefully decades and decades away, into the distance but preferably, halfway up a hill, trainers attached and a smile on my face.
jknappfeet&pedaladventures 
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