Tag Archives: Suffering

Mt Buffalo – conquered!

November 22, 2011 16:04 | 1 Comment |

Took me two hours to get to the climb’s end but I did it. I’ve officially climbed my first proper mountain and I have the ride stats to prove it.

It’s long – really, really, really freaken long. My brother described it thusly when we talked about it a few days later: it goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on – fark! I’m only half way!! – and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on. Just when you think it’s never going to end, there’s a small descent and the scenery opens out into the most amazing plateau. It’s a meadow at the top of a mountain. Grass, flowers, the whole bit. There’s a tiny little bit more climbing to do after that to reach the chateau that signifies the end of the climb.

The crazy thing is that I did it with a cold. Probably not the most sensible thing I’ve done recently but I had company. Louisa and I ended up nattering most of the way up as evidenced by this photo:

We took our time, stopping quite a few times in the shade to cool down and have a drink. It’s not like were were in a hurry or anything. We also snapped a few photos. I think this one is from about two-thirds of the way up.

But make it to the top we did. There were cheers from the group we were riding with when we arrived. And of course I took a photo of my bike at the look-out just to prove I’d been there.

Am I smiling? Or is it a grimace? (At least I look spiffy in my pink Rapha jersey. And yes, it matches my handle bar tape.)

However, something strange happened on the way down. For the first time ever on a descent I actually got a little bored. 21kms is a long, long way to descend on an unfamiliar road with a dead surface. Plus because I had a cold, my ears were blocked and I couldn’t get them clear on the way down which affected my sense of balance. I had to go more slowly then I probably would’ve a few months ago. By the time I got to the bottom, I was in a bit of pain and I had to stop to blow my nose in attempt to make my ears pop.

There was a cruel torment on the way back into Bright when the sign on the side of road promised it was only six kilometres away. Longest six kilometres of my life! When I finally staggered into the guest house the riding group I was with had taken over for the weekend, I was a shattered woman. Exhausted, drenched in sweat and feeling like death. I thought I’d feel some sort of achievement for successfully traversing my first proper mountain climb but mostly I just wanted to lie down and never get up. The sense of achievement came three days later when we were returning to Melbourne and I realised the mountain I could see to my left was Mt Buffalo. Then I truly realised what I’d done.

See that mountain in the distance? I rode up that, all 1,302m (4,272 ft) of it!

There were a few more rides on the weekend – rail trail tootle to from Bright to Myrtleford for breakfast and then back to Bright and a quick Bright – Harrietville – Bright trip but mostly this weekend was about Mt Buffalo for me and the realisation that right now I’m just not in love with cycling like I once was.

The realisation came as we were heading back from Myrtleford to Bright and were going to stop at a pub on the way. We had to ride across some grass and lucky me, my bike slipped out from under me and I fell. At least time it was on grass and the only damage was to my dignity. But sitting in the shade after everyone else had ridden on – at my request – with my partner, I realised I’m having a bit of a tough time with the whole bike riding thing at the moment.

It’s hard to get out on the bike. It doesn’t feel as natural to me as it once did. I still get edgy in large groups and I’m not comfortable being surrounded by riders I don’t know. I’m nervous and overly cautious. I’m not comfortable on the bike since I switched saddles to a narrower and less padded one with a massive cut-out. I thought it was because I got the seat height wrong but even after adjusting it, I’m still not comfortable. So a new saddle is on its way to me now. Maybe it’ll work, maybe it won’t. Don’t know.

Does the fact that I’m still trying count for something? I’m not willing to give up on it. Cycling and I are having a bit of a lovers’ tiff at the moment but maybe everything will be fixed with a new saddle and a few good rides.

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It was epic. Epic I say!

May 10, 2011 12:41 | 6 Comments |

On Sunday, I broke 100km on a ride for the first time since the Great Ocean & Otway Classic. And that’s what made it epic. Big distance, lots of climbing (for me anyway) and no SAG wagon.

Five of us got together on to try the Kinglake climb via Humevale Rd. Every time I’ve climbed Kinglake, it’s been via the traditional route on Hurtsbridge/Heidelberg Kinglake Rd which includes the soul crushing Wild Dog Creek Hill. I was quite excited to try the Humevale Rd climb simply because it meant I didn’t have to torture myself by having to climb up The Dog (as we’ve started referring to it as in a very unaffectionate way).

The Climbing Cyclist site (which I’ve linked to above) called the Humevale Rd climb a hidden gem. And it is. For the entire climb (about 7kms, gaining around 600m) we encountered one car – yup, just one. The driver was decent enough to slow right down and pass us with caution. This is one of the roads that was damaged when the fires ripped through the area and not much has been done to repair it. To be honest, it would easily be the worse road surface I’ve ridden on but we were taking it slow so it didn’t matter so much. I really wouldn’t want to attempt it as a descent though. The area is taking some time to recover but there’s a crazy amount of regrowth near the edge of the road which makes for a lush, green ride. And it’s quiet, incredibly quiet and peaceful. All you can hear is the noises of the bikes, people’s breath, the odd snatch of conversation and the bird calls. That’s it. There’s no pollution, no cars, no people. The best word I can come up with to describe the area is serene.

After our first stop at the Flying Tarts Bakery in Kinglake West (think we’ve found a name for our group!), it started to drizzle so all the wet weather gear came out and we rugged up. Only to overheat on the way to Kinglake as there were plenty of rolling hills. Brief stop at Kinglake to put on any final kit and we were ready for the descent down to St Andrews.

Everyone knows I love to descend. I love the rush of speed and the sound of the wind blasting past. I love leaning into corners and feeling the bike move with me. Just love it. I really suffer when I climb so a great descent like Kinglake makes up for it. I’m fortunate to have a dad who worked hard to teach me to corner properly (when I was first learning to drive I couldn’t corner properly to save myself) and on the whole, I can descend quickly enough to keep up with the boys but keep myself safe as well. Uhh… most of the time. This time I totally messed up my lines not once but twice and found myself praying there wasn’t any oncoming traffic as I ended up on the wrong side of the road. But I was incredibly lucky and managed to get away with it. (Let that be a lesson to me to be more careful next time!) Still, I accept the fact that there’s a pretty good chance that one day I’m going to get it wrong in a corner and the end result will not be a happy one for me. I should just remember what my dad told me recently – it’s amazing what can happen if you go into a corner more slowly. You can accelerate out of it!

Then the inevitable happened. We started climbing again as we headed through Kangaroo Ground and Warrandyte South and I found myself dropping further and further behind to the point I couldn’t really see the others ahead of me. I was suffering, a lot. What is it about climbing that I find so hard? A couple of times I wanted to cry because I was feeling so bad and I was so far behind. The mental demons really came out to play and I felt weak, slow and stupid. Stupid for thinking that I could do it when evidence was heavily leaning towards couldn’t. Sigh. I feel that I’m not mentally tough enough but I don’t know how to fix that.

I have no problems with the physical act of riding a bike. My legs are in pretty good shape. I’m stronger than I was. Logically, I know I’ve vastly improved if compared to where I was last year. This time last year, I hadn’t done a single serious climb and hadn’t done a ride that was further than 70kms (I think). But mentally? Every time it gets tough, I start to fall apart. I doubt myself, I make it million times harder because I don’t believe I can do it – even with evidence to the contrary. But as to how to fix this, I have no idea. I know I’m only going to improve if I keep pushing through barriers but it’s really hard. I have to push myself past what I’m comfortable with. I’m letting myself down by always believing the naysayers in my head, that evil little voice that whispers that I’m weak, fat, stupid for even trying.

Maybe the mental toughness will just come over time. Doubt it though. It’s too heavily ingrained in my personality to always believe the bad stuff and deny what’s good. Doing rides like this will probably always put me through the wringer because it’s who I am. There will always be a little voice of doubt in my head. However! At least I always try and I don’t give up, even when I’m gasping for air and my legs are screaming at me. I don’t quit. Strength comes from the strangest places and perhaps I just haven’t realised it yet.

But you know, it’s not necessarily a bad thing to be put through the wringer like this. Odd thing to say considering how much complaining I just did. It means I’m not emotionally dead, that I can still feel really intense emotion and pain. It indicates progress because a few years ago I was too afraid to feel anything at all, even physical pain. If I can master it on the bike, perhaps I can master it in the rest of my life.

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2011 Great Ocean & Otway Classic ride

March 29, 2011 18:17 | 1 Comment |

Ahh… where to start?

I’m not quite sure why I’m having so much trouble writing about the ride. Well, I suppose the starting point could be that it won’t go down as one of my more successful rides. It’s not because I ended up in the sag wagon – I didn’t. I finished the ride. However, it did put me through the wringer.

I’ve started wondering if there’s a cycling equivalent of a runner’s wall. Because it certainly felt like I slammed right into it, repeatedly.

100kms of the ride was fine, which is a little surprising considering it included a decent climb. I actually enjoyed the climb! Unlike other climbs I’ve done, this one had small breaks in it so you’d slog your guts out for a bit and then just when you started think you couldn’t possibly keep going, an opportunity to have a rest would pop up. The road goes right through the centre of the Otway forest so it was strikingly beautiful. The whole area was burnt to the ground in 1983 Ash Wednesday fires and the way it is now is a testament to how amazing the Australian bush is. It’s lush, green and full of animals, including frogs which I could hear as I was pedaling along.

A few sections of the climb were quite steep and I realised I was going too hard so I decided to play a game of How slow can I ride before I tip over? which apparently was quite slow – under 10km/h. Still, I overtook a bunch of people and a lot of them were off their bikes walking up the hill and a few people were looking decidedly shaky. I rode past one girl who lying on the ground in the coma position while her friend was waiting for either an event official or a cop to go past so she could get some assistance. Another guy was being helped off his bike by his friends and looked like he was about to collapse from exhaustion. But not me! I powered on, only wobbling occasionally as the gradient really started to kick in.

The descent was fantastic. So much fun! The road surface wasn’t the best but I still managed to overtake a bunch of people on the way down to Lorne. I did have to slow down at one point because a rider was being picked up by an ambulance with what looked like a broken collarbone. It’s just as well I really enjoyed the descent because after that the fun stopped.

The last 45kms totally destroyed me. How crappy I felt went well and truly beyond a hunger fade, even though I was feeling pretty bad because I hadn’t eaten enough. I was in so much pain. My back was shouting at me, my shoulders and neck were cramping up. I really don’t know how I managed to get back on the bike after stopping at Anglesea.

I was mentally under-prepared for how hard the last leg of the ride would be. I feel really disappointed with myself because I couldn’t make it in the time I thought I would. It took me nearly six hours to complete the ride when I felt I should’ve been able to do it in five and a half. When I finished Amy’s Ride, I really felt like I’d accomplished something but this time I don’t feel like I’ve achieved anything. Mostly, I feel like I failed but I don’t know why. I know logically that I shouldn’t because I did manage to ride the whole 145 kilometres but logic doesn’t really have much to do with how I feel right now.

Definitely won’t go down as my favourite ride.

I did do something I didn’t think I would. I braved the cold and walked into the surf after getting back to the hotel. The water wasn’t as cold as I thought it would be but it did help. If nothing else, it helped me relax after being extremely stressed in the last 25kms of the ride. The first wave that got up over my waist made me squeal and then laugh. I spent about 20 minutes standing in the water, looking out towards the horizon. Then I walked back to the hotel and jumped into the spa in my cycling kit. Eh, what else can you do when you have no swimwear? It’s all made of lycra in the end. I think it helped though. Sure, I hobbled around the house on Sunday but my legs were okay on Monday so apparently the whole spending time in the surf thing works.

I did come away with one very valuable piece of knowledge – I need a narrower seat. This was the furtherest I’ve ever ridden and it became very apparent the width of the seat was causing me considerable grief. I visited Total Rush in Richmond on Friday to buy some new gloves and took the opportunity to get my sit bones measured as I had started to wonder if my seat was too wide. The guy doing the measuring agreed and said I could do with a narrower seat than my current one. (Kudos to him for not trying to sell me one.) I didn’t think it’d make much of difference but by the end of the ride, my hips hurt quite a bit. So I’m on the hunt for a new one. I’m thinking a Fi’zi:k one. No cut out but 5cm narrower.

Anyhoo… my Garmin stats. I’m still very eh about them.

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Just keep spinning

October 31, 2010 18:13 | Leave a Comment |

I had Dory singsonging this in my head for the last five kms of today’s 100km charity ride. Seriously.

Just keep spinning.
Just keep spinning.

Over and over as I suffered my way though to the end. 5kms to go and I was in the hurt box. But I suffered through and finished 100km (99.42km to be exact) in four hours.


Check out that heart rate. It’s not happy is it? My average heart rate on a ride is usually around 140bpm. 150bpm is high for me.

The conditions weren’t ideal. I woke up at 6.30 and it was bucketing down and I started to think maybe I’d be staying at home. I hadn’t registered for the ride so I didn’t have to go if I really didn’t want to. But I’d pretty much decided I was going to do the ride. It stopped raining and it seemed like it would be okay apart from a really annoying headwind. I got myself into a group which was happy to work together. Then it started raining. It rained on and off for well over an hour. The wind got stronger and eventually someone got at the front of the group who decided we were going too slow. I fell off the back and couldn’t get back on. It was brutal.

It started raining really heavily which reduced visibility significantly. I was having major problems seeing because my sunglasses fogged up. I got prescription inserts for them on Friday (I can see!! Hopefully I’ll stop riding over things) and what I learnt today was that once the inserts fog up, it takes a very long time for them to clear. In the end I had to take them off. I was holding them in my teeth as the rain came in sideways and was hitting me in the eye. It was not fun.

So, uh… yeah. 30 – 50kms really sucked and the rest stop was a long time in coming.

It did get better. We finally got to head south so we had a tailwind which made life so much more pleasant. The sun came out and it just seemed easier. And that would be because it was. Nothing like a tailwind to pick up your spirits. 50 – 90km passed by relatively quickly.

95kms in and I had a nasty surprise that I really should’ve known was coming. The ride turned once again into the head/crosswind. That’s when Dory started up in my head. Just keep spinning, just keep spinning. I knew I was so close to the end. I did take some satisfaction in overtaking the sag wagon for the 50km ride. Still, it was really weird to have an animated fish singing in my head. Worked though. I made it to the end.

I was going to get a massage at the finish but there was this really creepy guy there who kept staring at me. I really wanted a massage but I felt so creeped out that in the end, I left. I was entitled to a free lunch as well but I decided a shower was a better idea so I hopped on my bike and rode back to Mum and Dad’s.

Enjoyment is not a word I’d use for today’s ride. It was one of the hardest rides I’ve ever done. I’d even say it was harder then the first time I did the Kinglake climb. My confidence for my ability to do the 156km Scotty’s Ride in December has taken a bit of a beating though. Last weekend’s 80kms was so easy but this was the exact opposite.

Still, pretty pleased with my time though. I didn’t think I’d make it in four hours but I did. That’s something really positive to take from it.

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Some days…

January 30, 2010 10:50 | Leave a Comment |

…the best thing about cycling is stopping.

Some days there’s no better moment than when you swing your leg over the bar and stand with feet together while waiting for the garage door to rise. Hearing the little snapping noise of the clasp of your helmet as you release it means it’s all over and my, what a relief that is.

Yes, on Thursday evening I suffered on my bike in a way I haven’t done for a while.

After not riding Kew Boulevard for a few weeks, I decided it was time to tackle it once again. I had decided what I was going to do – a single complete circuit to test out my legs. Uh… yeah, it sounded good in my head. The reality was a little different. I was feeling weary before I even managed to get to my starting point so when I hit that first long hill, I wanted to die about two-thirds of the way up. I’m sure my face was screwed up in pain as I struggled my way up the hills. I didn’t even bother to pretend to pedal on the descents. All I could think about was those few moment of blessed relief when I didn’t have to turn the cranks.

I was gasping for air as I completed the first half of the circuit and I wasn’t certain I actually had it in me to complete the circuit. I stopped to rest while I ate my energy bar (I’ve found I can’t eat and ride hills at the same time) and contemplated what I was about to do to myself to get home.

I had to granny-gear it to get up all of the hills on the way home. I was turning those cranks at about 100rpm but still only doing about 14km and feeling like I was going to tip over any second. At one point, I even had to get out off the seat because I simply didn’t have the momentum to stay upright if I remained seated.

It was a war of attrition for me and I suffered. I crested one hill and I know my face was a mask of pain.

And the sad thing? Kew Boulevard isn’t in that hilly. The ascents aren’t that sharp. I shouldn’t have been suffering as I was. But what makes Kew Boulevard a challenge is that it’s about 12 kilometres of hills and corners if you do a full circuit. There is no flat, which means very little time to recover. Actually, wait! There is a flat section for about 200 meters on a bridge over the Easter Freeway. Wooh!

But I made it. I managed to get my sorry arse home and have that moment of sweet, sweet relief when I stopped. Sometimes I wonder what drives me to do this to myself. I know it’s because there’s always some good to be had – even if it is the moment I stop.

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Things to do on a wet Sunday morning

November 29, 2009 18:39 | Leave a Comment |

Go for a 60km ride. Yup, because that makes so much sense.

It’s official, I’m addicted to bike riding. It’s the only reason I can come up with for going out today when I knew it was going to rain. I swear to god every time I sat back down on my seat, my knicks made a squelching sound. Most of the time I don’t mind riding in the rain but it simply wouldn’t stop raining while we were on Beach Road and about 3/4 of the way home I was seriously asking myself what I was doing. For the first time ever, it stopped being quite so much fun and started to be hard work.

The most unpleasant thing about riding in the rain is the wet feet. Lyra has the advantage of drying relatively quickly once it stops raining but the shoes and socks stay wet. It’s decidedly unpleasant and I’m sure if I’d taken my socks off, I could’ve wrung quite a lot of water out of them. I think one of my cycling-related purchases will be some waterproof overshoes.

Go team me for doing 60kms though.

I’m still deciding what I think of the new tyres. They do really well in the wet, they’re very grippy but they feel sluggish on a dry road. The ride also feels harsher then the old ones but I’m not experienced enough to really know for sure. Still, it hasn’t been the best conditions for testing them out and I’m not going to dismiss them out of hand after so short a distance. Plus, I can’t really afford another set of tyres for a little while. Need a new laptop battery first.

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