It’s a funny old time of year. The time in between your last race in October and your first race of the new season is always fraught with uncertainty. Now in America, it’s easy, as the entire offseason/base period is spent consuming massive amounts of novelty-shaped Reese’s products – from pumpkins, to turkeys, to Christmas trees. That’s seasonal, local cuisine at its best.
Yes, it actually snows in the winter outside of Southern California, as illustrated by the animal seeking refuge in my hair.
Back here in the eurozone (how long will we be saying that for?) it’s not so simple. At first you’re just really relieved to get off your bike for a bit. There’s no doubt that by the end of the season I’m dragging my arse out on long rides and (previous to this year where I kicked the caffeine habit) pounding far too many cortados in the café before an interval session. The novelty of being off the bike lasts about a week. The weekends are great, you can catch up with your mates, sink a few beers and dress up as a cow and go to a night club in Birmingham (my sister’s birthday bash normally coincides with my final race; she likes dressing up parties), but as the weeks from your last race stack up, so does that itching feeling. Without the daily regime of training you begin to feel sluggish and the lack of metabolism-boosting exercise takes away the usual constant hunger.
As athletes we attach a perhaps unhealthy amount of self-worth to our training, we think it makes us better than other people, and I know a lot of guys struggle to rest enough for this reason. These are the same guys who really struggle to step away from the sport when they’ve reached their peak. I can see this isn’t healthy but I can also see myself following in these footsteps to an extent. I love riding my bike, and just taking a few weeks off has me dead keen to get back out there again. The idea of hanging it up for good seems unfathomable.
November is an odd month, you want to start getting back into the groove but the real efforts and kilometers don’t come until January. At the same time you can’t let it all hang out and party like it’s 1999 because, wel,l if you do you’ll end up wheezing like you’re 99 and getting shelled in the first races of the season. If you’re not fit enough to hang in the first races you don’t get the benefit of racing to train, so you don’t get fitter and you don’t hang in the later races and suddenly it’s June and you’re still creeping. At the same time you don’t want to be a Christmas star – shiny and bright in December and in a box in the shed by February. I think we’ve all seen those guys.
This year the combination of a potentially crippling back injury and a pretty difficult year mentally, financially (I think we all know what I’m on about there), and physically (who’d have thought taking a ride on a bull’s head and racing the next day wasn’t a good idea?), has me off the bike for longer than usual. I’m combating this by doing some cross training, getting to the pool every day, and spending approximately half an hour trying not to drown and marveling at the ability of Catalan pensioners to swim in the middle of the lane with their hands in a closed fist. Or maybe they only do that when I try overtake them?
It’s hard not to feel nervous and edgy when you see the wonderful world of twitter proclaiming “epic” hours in the saddle (and by the way, can we all come to an agreement that twitter is for sharing ideas, messages and fun facts; YOU LOG YOUR TRAINING IN TRAININGPEAKS BECAUSE NOBODY CARES HOW FAR YOU RODE TODAY) after a two-week break which left said social media maven “completely out of shape.” My arse. I’m sure half of this is pure posturing but the type A personality kicks in a bit sometimes!
Given the nature of my injury, I could knock out a six-hour ride, but I know I shouldn’t. The break will do me good anyway; I plan to mix it up a bit next year. Race some mountain bikes (if I can find a mountain bike to ride) and try to race as far and wide as possible to spread the message about diabetes and exercise. I’m trying to fill the yawning chasm of time that not riding leaves in my day with fruitful activities, like the never-ending search for sponsorship – from companies with whom I want to work, along with experimenting in cooking unusual bits of pigs and learning to play the harmonica (yes I’m fully aware I’m a hippie).
It’s an important time to give back to family and friends as well; I’ve been trying to help out around here, just little things like taking ten minutes to help a lady carry her shopping up to her flat, and sorting out mum’s new phones. Things you’d be selfish about during the season. Now is the time to stock up on karma cookies so you can dip into the jar later in the year.
Don’t worry, many more adventures lie ahead, and you’ll be the first to hear about them.
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