nothing done half heartedly
It’s been two weeks. The tendinitis is (mostly) gone, the tingling and numberless between my 3rd and 4th finger has abated, and my search history has been filled with races for next year.
Despite it being the summer holidays, time has been limited. Exploring Stockholm and Copenhagen on crutches, catching up with family, and playing with niblings has only extended the happiness of this summer. But in the conversations and quiet moments have been opportunities to reflect and recall the highs and lows of the race. So I wanted to share some memories that stick out and say some thank yous.
What are the most vivid memories?
The jostling of bikes at the start, surrounded by folks looking very professional with their event-branded jerseys, perfectly packed lightweight bikes, and a cacophony of beeping bike computers. I felt out of my depth - the missed training rides ran through my head, my kit list and the location of every item on my bike, my never-before cycled goal of 250km. Soon Rovereto slipped away, along smooth bike paths, welcoming the new experience of riding as a pack.
Zooooming down hills, especially through the Dolomites, and the final hours in Norway. The former came with new companions and an excited uncertainty about the rest of the ride, with flashing speed signs confirming our supra-50kph speeds. The latter hills were spent alone, now above 60kph, with confidence to focus on the spectacular landscape and a mix of blind determination with heavy-chested excitement.
The camping! Tucked in amongst trees and marching lines of ants, along the banks of lakes, in the shadows of mountains. My little tent became a haven. From which I could stretch, call friends and family, and “wash” with wet wipes. But these evenings brought calm, and promised long days on the bike since I could wake up early and leave without the enticing delays of comfy hotels with their included breakfasts.
The heart-searing frustration and disappointment of cycling ~60km in the opposite direction, after an already onerous morning. Sorry to those who received tear-filled voicenotes from me that day. But an even bigger thank you to those who sent me encouragement, rational thoughts, and reassured me I could recover the distance - you were right. Thank you to the Czech family that stopped while I cried at the side of the road, who, despite not knowing English, gave me water and used google translate to say everything would be okay - you were right. Thank you to the cyclists I met that day: the couple from a few villages away from my childhood home, the environmentalist who had to be back in time for work at the office, the man in finance (who was not 6”5 with blue eyes), the Italian man who’s friends were too fast (who’s friends I met days later! With their kilo bag of almonds and endless experience of ultra cycling). That moment of frustration lingered in my mind in the following days. It snuck into my thoughts when I felt I was doing well - a reminder that I could be doing even better if I hadn’t messed up. But silver linings rapidly replaced those thoughts - the people I met, the places I stayed, the shift of mindset that came with tackling a set back.
The landscapes! Jagged mountains. Smooth undulating hills. Peachy sunsets. Misty sunrises. Alpine towns spotted from winding mountain roads. Roads steaming from hot sun and recent rain. Vineyards divided by fruit trees, separated by single lane tracks. Gravel roads cutting through forests and weaving above deep blue lakes. Cobbled streets flanked by stone houses and shop fronts. Soviet blocks painted brightly with hope. Azure rivers winding through white rock. Forests reaching beyond the edges of the horizon. Pink midnight sun mirrored in smooth seas. There are so many sides to the beauty of Europe.
And finishing! (but see my last post for that)
Throughout the ride were moments of overwhelming gratitude. Gratitude for the opportunity - to have a body and brain that can tackle these challenges; for the family and friends that believe in me; the financial freedom to take time out of summer to cycle for charity; to have a brilliant bike company, Enigma, support the endeavour; to witness such beautiful nature and human kindness.
But at the peripheries of gratitude was a quiet melancholy, central to my motivation for taking part in North Cape 4000. It’s near impossible that my nephew will be able to explore Europe like this, or enjoy the freedom that comes with cycling. But that sadness evaporates with his innocent giggling, newly-toothy smile, and whole-hearted determination to keep up with his older siblings. He cruises and crawls around the living room, NG tube in place and apricot smeared on his babygrow, with strong, lightly-mottled legs. As he nears his 1st birthday, a day that came with a 50:50 chance when he was born, the power of all those supporting him has become clear. His parents are attuned to his needs, and balance them with his adoring siblings. The team at GOSH carve a future for him with check ups and treatments. The team at EACH priortise the present, with family-wide support and specialist carers. There’s so much love wrapped around Baby J, and while his future is uncertain, I’m excited to see where his determination takes him.
