12 days of centuries

Well I’ve blooming gone and done it – 12 out of 12 gran fondo metric centuries, one for every month this year. For the imperialists among us 100km is 62.13 miles. That’s my goal for 2023 done along with still riding daily. And I have been reflecting on what the word practice means for me and how I want to use it in the coming year.

This final one was a truly dirty ride, mud, rain, wind, traffic splatter, foul weather and a filthy bike. There’s not much daylight in December days which meant I started and ended in the dark. This ride was going to take in all the big sights, pity I could only see the path in front of me for about a third of the ride.

Travelling west coast to east coast my main target was the Pineapple House in Airth. Built in 1761 as a summerhouse by the Earl of Dunmore, it has been labelled Scotland’s most bizarre building. The wealthy owner once grew pineapples there in pits and other exotic fruits in the glasshouses. According to the National Trust, you can now take a peaceful walk around the woodlands there. My arse. It was a flipping quagmire. And despite having three devices with gps capabilities I ended up going round and round the maze of woodland paths in semi-darkness and mud and ended up walking my bike through a muddy field back to the road. There might have been tears. And swearing. But I did make it there.

I’m sure it would have been lovely on a beautiful summer’s day. I also hit my two top favourite Scottish landmarks – the Kelpies and Falkirk Wheel. Unfortunately the Falkirk wheel was getting maintenance done, so that was a bit of a damp squib. Although it’s an excellent toilet and coffee stop.

The Kelpies as always were beautiful and impressive. Definitely something Scotland can be proud of, both landmarks are great feats of engineering and stunning in their own ways. There is something very magical about the Kelpies that connects me to our history and our folklore of sea beasts. It definitely taps into the child part of me finding mysterious things on my bike rides.

It was a super tough ride. I’m still not fully recovered from the bugs I’ve had recently and the unpleasant burning sensation I’m still getting in my lungs made the ride a struggle. I went very slowly with lots of stops. But I still believed I could do it and I was determined to complete my goal. This was part of my ponderings. I only knew it was possible because I had done a long ride like this every single month. That certainly doesn’t make it easier, just possible. Every single one of these 100km has felt like an epic struggle.

It’s the repetition of behaviour that makes a practice – whether that’s daily, weekly or monthly. The word practice implies getting ready for the real thing, but it also has this other meaning of repetition and ritual. Brushing your teeth is a daily practice – you do it to prevent decay. I now realise that my daily practice of cycling prevents the decay of something inside me. It prevents the decay of joy and hope and fun and lightness and child-like curiosity of the natural world. It is a protective practice. That’s just hit me like a brick, how truly important that is.

I hope you can find that too. Find something that you want to build into your life that prevents the decay of your soul. To find a way to access the life force that gives you meaning. Merry Christmas to all you lovely people who read my blog and nourish me with your support ♥️🎄

How to heal your heart

When your heart hurts you can’t take a painkiller, there’s no one way to soothe the pain that life and loss can bring. Our instinct can be to hide from the world, to stay away from others because we feel jaggy. Sometimes that’s helpful for a while but what we really need is connection with others. To allow ourselves to be loved and cared for. To be with our tribes and not have to explain yourself. And for me, also chucking myself along bike trails. I had the chance to do all of that visiting Canada again for the first time in four years.

I fell in love with Newfoundland in Canada 15 years ago, after being invited over by a fellow trainer and friend, who also sadly passed away a few years ago. I was made to feel so welcome and was blown away by the hospitality and generosity of these good people. Friends at home thought it was weird that I could find so much joy at a suicide prevention training conference, but I did. And I learned from the Newfies that I was now FFA – Family From Away. I was so happy to share this feeling with some UK colleagues and to show them round the place I’d fallen in love with. Sharing adventures, fun, food and laughter with with them was also precious and healing.

I can’t exactly say why I feel so much affinity with others who are working to prevent suicide and to educate others in reducing stigma and how to talk to people when they are struggling with suicide. I think maybe because it just really bloody matters! And also it feels like doing something in the world that makes a difference. No, we can’t stop everyone thinking about suicide from acting on their thoughts. But even helping one person in a lifetime feels worthwhile. And being with people who think the same is so life affirming for me.

I also loved every minute that I got to cycle in Canada. Some of it on a fantastic borrowed bike – again the generosity of friends in Newfoundland. But some of it was on a hired e-bike – without the speed restrictions that we have in the UK! Oh boy, I enjoyed that far too much. Bombing along the trans-Canada trail on the old railway routes, I could get used to that. And was I going so fast that I fell off? Of course I flipping was. Skinned knees and a sore hand but no permanent damage.

But I wasn’t zooming so much that I missed the scenery. It is an incredible landscape, much of it like Scotland, but bigger. The stunning autumn reds and golds among the mighty evergreens was breathtaking. And the complete silence on these trails was salve for the soul. I didn’t see any moose or bears, a good thing, although it would have been super exciting. Lots of chattering squirrels. And just miles and miles of open trails.

I know that nature can heal me. It is the place where I feel most like myself. It is where my body remembers what it felt like to be a child looking for the best leaves and stones and staring at the clouds with awe. But I am also human and need human connection. Back home I have tribes I connect to.

I don’t think it’s an accident whether or not you find people in the world you can be deeply connected to. I think it happens when you are true to what your heart needs. When you are honest with yourself about what matters to you. I know there’s so many jobs I could do to earn more money, but I choose this because it matters to me. I choose life. I choose to be with others either consciously or unconsciously because this stuff matters to them too. And because they make me feel that I matter. And that by being together we can make a difference in the world. My life matters.