Good things and bad things go together

I did a rather large bike ride at the weekend.

(To the jaw-dropping Elan Valley and back: 210km and 3,600m climbing in 28ºC heat, over 11 hours. I know, right?!)

The main reason I’m writing about it—the bit that will serve as a helpful reminder for you of how the human operating system works—I’ll get to in a minute, but firstly… I’m just really grateful that I can do these sorts of rides!

It’s a full 17 or 18 years (during my cycling journalist heydays) since I was capable of such feats—there’s been injury and upset and pretty much a decade of that time not cycling at all—so I don’t take any of this stuff for granted.

And during those times of lying fallow, ‘I’—in reality the Giles Ego Construct 📦— could not foresee, nor imagine, nor allow itself to even consider that such rides would be possible again.

But here we are!

I’m constantly amazed at the human body and I love that it’s been seemingly important enough to me, to keep on trying to reach these heights again. Go me and my unconscious programming! 😆

(Ok, so that bit was about the human operating system too, sorry. I can’t help myself.)

Good times

Anyway, on a mahoosive ride like that, there are always going to be highs and lows. (I think the fact they’re so extreme, and so condensed into such a neat little package, is one of the allures it holds for me.)

Here’s a high, the likes of which I hope to remember for many years to come:

I’d made some great planning decisions, set off super-early, reached my destination in really good time, felt sprightly on the climbs, had tried a gravel track alongside the reservoir I’d not done before, found an unexpected picnic bench and sat there in the shade, eating a delicious home-made sandwich I’d knocked together at 04:45, admiring the view in blissful solitude.

“Life literally could not get any better than this,” I said out loud to nobody, and I truly meant it.

This is perfection, to a Giles.

I even took a selfie, to remember it by.

It was almost as if I knew it couldn’t last.

Bad times

In counterpoint, here are a couple of lows, neither of which come close to depicting the depths of despair I reached later that afternoon, as I crept up one stupidly steep climb after another, my head boiling, my legs screaming:

That view? Looks spectacular, doesn’t it? Mid-Wales at its best. Look at the road, snaking in the foreground; the series of hills marching off into the distance. One to really savour, surely?

No. I’d had the shock of my life getting up to that summit. All the poring-over-maps and meticulous route-planning had suddenly unravelled as realisation dawned that the territory itself (which looked so benign on paper) on the way home was absolutely savage. Hard, hard roads with the sorts of gradients I go out of my way to avoid.

(In fact, Climb 14 of 18, displayed here on my Garmin—which concluded with half a mile of unbroken 15% wall—I had quite deliberately chosen in order to give a wide berth to something that looked much worse on paper!!)

And all into a headwind, that I hadn’t really noticed was a tailwind on the way out, explaining why I'd made such good time and it had all seemed so easy.

That view was a visible laying out of the many, many obstacles I faced, before home. As I stood there at the top, dripping sweat and shaking as I ferreted around in pockets for sustenance, the thought of having to traverse it all was pretty daunting… and the reality turned out to be much worse. 😆

It was horrible. I swore a lot. I weaved from one side of the road to the other on many a climb and sitting here, typing this, I still don’t know how I made it back.

(But I did. Even though plans fell apart and my worst fears were exceeded. We are innately resilient!)

What the mind wants…

And what did this means for my ‘perfect’ memory, from earlier in the day, you may ask?

Because it’s something I’ve been asking ever since, as both recency bias and negativity bias threaten to push that happy little moment down (or even out of) the list; each recalling of it being accompanied by a “Yeah, but…” from the mind.

Can it not exist on its own please, separate from the horrors that followed?

That moment was so… perfect… it shouldn’t be sullied in any way!

Could I have done something differently in my planning? Chosen an easier route back?

🤔

And this is it, isn’t it? The mind in action.

It’s a coulda’-woulda’-shoulda’ machine! Always making out there was a gold standard, pristine experience to be had, ‘if only’…

• I’d made better choices
• I’d been a bit more sensible when planning
• it hadn’t been quite so hot
• I’d set off even earlier
• I’d chosen a route that went out into the wind, and had it behind me on the way home (like I usually do)

…and so on, and so on.

But you know what? None of those would have been right either. Because the mind is fickle and I’d have:

• bailed on my brilliant Epic Elan Valley Ride idea
• taken the easy option, not really pushing myself like I wanted to
• bored myself senseless on flat roads

…or some other such nonsense.

Nope. This life malarkey consists of rough and smooth; Yin and Yang; light and dark. We live in a world of form, and every concept has its opposite to be experienced – this is what they mean by ‘duality’.

You don’t get one without the other, however hard the mind strives for only-good.

And I'll tell you what – I’m grateful for both, because life’d be pretty dull, without the contrast.

☯️

Giles