The Return of Uni-Cycle, national level performance ambitions and starting again at Uni. Same stuff, new learnings...
^Looking upwards and ahead. Tactic UK
Return
I haven’t posted on Uni-Cycle in 2 years. What started out as a passion project quickly diffused as work and life got in the way. And that’s been great, by all means, because I’ve done a lot in the past few years. I’ve been riding my bike all across the UK. I’ve graduated from one University and moved straight onto another- one of the best in the world which I could never have imagined myself ending up at. The fact that my Uni work and life interrupted my blog writing about the balance of living as a student and an aspiring racing cyclist is all quite ironic...
The mere existence of this blog post is proof that this has changed. The strangest part is that, if anything, I’ve since picked up even more work and responsibilities. I’ve moved to the University of Cambridge to train to become a teacher. If you’d have told 18 year old me that I’d soon end up here, I wouldn’t have believed it. But here I am. I rose above my own expectations- and I almost didn’t think too much of it in the singular moment. Yes, I was happy, but I didn’t feel satisfied, like I’d done a monumental achievement or merited it. I 'umm-d' and 'ahh-d' a fair bit about even becoming a teacher, so what right did I have to end up here and why should I be doing this?
Initial imposter syndrome, fear and stress aside- and surprisingly quickly aside- I've absolutely loved this journey so far. It's been a lot of work, but the rush and fun of teacher training seems to have mitigated all the other doubts and stresses. Largely because I don't exactly have the time to fret and second guess. It's oddly blissful, but requires consistent and devoted work. As a teacher trainee I've been told to keep a 'writing journal', and I thought what better way to do so than by using my pre-established blog? I'd wanted to get writing on it again, and this posed a great opportunity and platform to get things rolling again. So here we are.
This blog post is about rising above expectations and how I have recently done so in my Uni work and cycling. But more importantly, it's about how we can learn to do this and learn how to do this across multiple aspects of our lives when burdened with responsibilities, differing goals and ambitions. Rising above our anxieties. Rising above our ambitions. Rising above those climbs. Rising above what we believe is possible of ourselves.
Resist
These learnings first came to me on a sunny and surprisingly hot October afternoon. Trees swayed and leaves clattered in the streaming South-Westerly wind, a cool breeze flowing off the English Channel. Despite the serene setting, I knew that I have a painful few minutes ahead of me. I’ve done it before hundreds of times, but you never lose that fear and anticipation of the hurt that’s yet to come.
I was about to do a hill climb (for more about these events, see blog #2), but this one was different. It was one that my home club was hosting, and I was going into it with a morning hill climb already in the legs- one which hadn't gone too well. My left quad was aching as if I'd pulled a muscle in it. I was having doubts about how I would perform. My goal of a podium was fleeting and felt impossible to achieve now.
My warm up was pretty decent though and I arrived at the start line with a good few minutes to spare before I set off. I selected my starting gear, closed my eyes, readjusted my shoes and took some deep breaths. Rather than feeling shit and demotivated, I somehow conjured up a stoic mindset and thought to myself 'whatever happens now happens- just give it your all'. So that's what I did as I set off from the start.
Within the first 30 seconds I could tell I was better than my mind was telling me earlier, and I set off at a fairly fast pace, yet one which felt manageable. Over the first peak and down a slight descent, I recuperated myself and settled into a rhythm. I was feeling good heading into the last long ramp, so I knew I could gradually push harder and dig deeper.
To do this, I kept repeating the singular mantra in my mind:
Rise above.
Rise above.
Rise above.
I'm not sure where I originally thought of this, but I'd heard that mantras work for some athletes and this one came to me at this moment.
The legs kept on finding that extra little bit of power, and I was zipping up the climb with a feeling of flight, which I find comes so rarely to me, where the gear just feels right and you keep on winding it up. I crossed the line having given it ~98% effort, which for me (quite the perfectionist) is a damn high number. Pacing wise, I'd probably paced it 99% right too. It felt like a rare moment and I knew I'd done a solid ride- a top 5 seemed feasible.
^The ramp where the legs just kept on giving more and more. Made easier by the amazing Sussex vistas. Andy Brown
I rolled back to the finish and the timekeepers confirmed that I was running in provisional 1st place, which I was very happy (and surprised) to hear. Maybe getting on the podium was possible... As the last riders crossed the finish line, I expected this result to tumble (because usually the fastest riders set off last). They looked very fast indeed, but I kept my fingers crossed and hoped.
The result soon came in, and I was told that I had won.
...I won?
I could barely say it to myself, because rarely had I ever won anything in cycling. Normally I'd have always thought that there would be someone better, someone faster. But today this time wasn't the case.
It felt like something really special and also really bizarre. To win when all the odds initially seemed to be against me was totally unexpected, and brought a revitalising, bubbly feeling in my fatigued body. My first open hill climb win, and what a special one. I beat the previous year's winner and former course record holder by 6 seconds; a fair margin on an 8 minute climb.
The result filled me with confidence and made me realise that I could push these upper echelons of racing; something which I just hadn't believed in before. It's so hard to push for a goal that seems unattainable, but this moment gave me a glimpse of what would be possible if I resisted the negative thoughts and unambitious expectations. With this in mind, I headed to the National Hill Climb Championships hopeful that I could do well and that my training had been paying off; something that wasn't the case in 2021 and 2022.
Rise
The day of the National Championships had arrived, and I was ready. My training and taper (where you ease off training to feel fresh for the day) had gone largely to plan. I'd ridden the climb- a killer 2.5 mile length of road in the Lake District called 'The Struggle' (you have to wonder why...) and knew what pacing strategy I would employ. 450 riders were racing in it; the biggest ever turnout in the history of hill climbing, and the field was full of talented and experienced riders. A top 50 would be nice and realistic after a top 100 last year, but in all truth I didn't care about the result and how others would do; I was only focused on the process and knew that if I simply pushed myself as hard and effectively as I could then whatever came of it would be good. I'd also swapped out my home club (Brighton Mitre)'s kit for a Cambridge University CC skinsuit, because it isn't often you get to ride with such a prestigious team and it felt right to go into this Nationals as a Uni student in a way.
^looking quite daft riding to the start with my spare wheels on my backpack. I wasn't willing to risk puncturing before starting though, as that would put everything that I'd worked for right down the drain. Cadence cycling images
I was excited for this one and rather than being nervous and doubtful, I rolled up to the start line eager to set off and give it my all. That was pretty rare for me, but if I'd gained anything in the run up to this, it was the
ability to dismiss the negativity and do it for the love of it. I set off too eagerly, in fact, riding 40 watts above target for the first minute (which I couldn't restrain in this time for whatever stupid reason), but I pushed on and settled into a rhythm quite quickly.
Looking up at the steep, meandering ribbon of tarmac I kept repeating the singular mantra in my mind:
Rise above.
Rise above.
Rise above.
In rhythm with my cadence.
On the deep breaths out.
In harmony with the buzz of my tyres.
To the clunk of changing gears.
Looking through the weltering crimson and burgundy leaves on the autumnal trees which lined the sides of the road.
The pain built up quickly due to my hard start effort, but I managed to postpone it and dig on through it. Not perfectly, but enough to still do a decent job of my effort. I passed two riders fairly quickly, so knew I set off well, but was slightly hoping that I wouldn't pay for this later by collapsing in a heap on the final stretch.
Crossing the first crest of the brutal climb, I felt cooked already, but after a small descent which offered slight respite, I the finish line was practically in sight, albeit obscured by the thick swathes of people crowding around the road at the top. Entering the final steep stretch, I pushed hard to keep whatever momentum I had, with two of my greatest friends cheering me up as I slingshotted myself around a corner. I was really struggling and seeing red, but knew there was just a minute and a bit to go, so dug deep with the help of the massive crowds and held the tension in the legs.
^A few minutes after finishing the race, still gurning from the effort. This looks like some weird kind of Renaissance painting with the foil blanket, rows of bikes and tufty grass...
It didn't feel as exhausting as shorter hill climb efforts upon crossing the line, but the long duration of it had knackered me in a more sustained way. Nonetheless, I collapsed onto the damp grass verge afterwards, hyperventilating for a good few minutes.
My teammates came over to help me out- and take some embarrassing pictures- and told me that I was currently in 3rd overall and just off my target time at 14:49, with ~100 riders still to go. So a top 50 might still be possible. One by one the fastest lot crossed the line, but it seemed like many of them over paced the start like I had but to an even worse degree where they were crawling up the final drag.
Upon the final rider crossing the line- Andrew Feather, who won his 4th title with an extraordinary ride below the 12 minute mark- I looked at the provisional results and I had come 49th- just within the top 50 and around the same time as some very serious riders (drawing with the national level rider Ben Millar and just behind a former National Champion Adam Kenway). Had I paced it perfectly, who knows what I could've done. But let's not ponder that and instead try to improve on that next time...
^Taking on the final ramp, with the rest of the climb in the background. Bogdan Melnik
Repeat
So why should you give a shit about all this? It's a story just about me, an arbitrary event and a 49th place ride. All I literally gained from this was a number. But I think the learnings that I found from it say a lot more than the outcomes.
We should return to look at our past ways of doing things, but opt to view them in a different light, resisting the problems which dragged us down the first time. Then, we need to learn to rise above these problems, such as negative thoughts and restrictive expectations, before repeating the cycle again and again; gradually improving, learning and discovering.
We can apply this mentality to every cycle of life that we face, in our careers, our favourite sports, building our personalities and cooperating with others. In the case of my teacher training course, my lecturer taught us to view the process like climbing a mountain.
Sometimes it'll be hard; you'll be caught out in a blizzard or swept back down in an avalanche. But if you keep on moving, you’ll be at the top of one peak before you know it, and see even more mountains in the distance, ready to be climbed.
^keep on climbing those mountains... Will Jeffery
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