It won’t take a genius to realise I have cracked the bike open and introduced it into my training regime.
I was originally planning two rides this weekend (one on Saturday and one on Sunday)… Yesterday, Saturday, was well windy (innit) and I really couldn’t drum up the enthusiasm to get out in such horrible conditions. I know, I know but it was really windy. Deflection was in the form of a jedi mind trick and with one swish of the hand Karen wouldn’t let me out in such dangerous conditions… These are not the droids you are looking for.
In all seriousness, Karen had nothing to do with my laziness, it was horrible yesterday so I didn’t ride – that’s all.
But I did ride today. I smacked out my 22 mile loop of Rutland Water. It’s my ‘little’ loop, not terribly hilly but good enough to start with. I know it’s not exactly LEJOG distances but I have to start somewhere and it was windier than a windy thing sat in a wind tunnel after eating beans and drinking Guiness.
And that’s what I really want to talk about here. My mate Rob (the idiot / good good friend / you decide) who bought up the subject of LEJOG is as fit as a butchers dog, he regularly goes on 100 mile rides. He loves it, he gets on his turbo trainer every day and smacks out, and I quote, ‘an hour or two’. Where he is with his personal fitness is miles away from where I am with mine.
It would be easy to become deflated. I’ll never get that fit, on a bike I’m nowhere near as good as him. He races… I eat cake. How on earth can I compete with that?
I don’t know about you but I’ve felt the same when entering a gym for the first time. I mean, you’re nervous anyway before you enter a place like that. And there they are, loads of ’em, lifting sh!t, running, rowing, cycling, checking out their bodies in the wall sized mirror. They’ve been doing this stuff for ages, all lean and confident and there you are waddling about. Old tracky bottoms that have seen better days and a baggy t-shirt that still rides up and shows off your hairy fat belly whenever you lift your arms above your head. And it’s these niggling little thoughts that can chip away at any confidence you have.
So here is my advice. Fuck ’em! This is not about anyone but you. Only you can do anything about that Pirelli you carry about day in, day out. If you’re struggling at whatever level you are, it’s not about the fit bloke bench pressing a small car over in the corner. It’s not about the gym bunny with her perfect hair and lycra clad peanut cracking buttocks. Stop deflecting, that will get you nowhere, this is about you and only you.
They all had to start somewhere. They just started years before you and showed enough resolve to persevere. They have progressed to a point you can count their abs under the designer Nike top. You’re months / years away from that. Yes, we would all love to fast forward to the point where lycra shows off the firm stuff and not the wobbly stuff. Unfortunately, there is no easy way out of this. Any trickery, easy win promises, super fad diets – it’s all smoke and mirrors. Sorry but it is. If you’re fat, only hard work and perseverance will get you in a smaller / fitter body.
Now it’s about here, I offer the obvious get out clause – this is my opinion nothing else, I am no doctor (my handwriting is perfectly legible, thank you very much).
Obviously if you enjoy how you put the work in (for me it’s riding my bike), then the success should be easier sought but make no bones about it – this is fooking hard, it takes commitment and lots have failed for every successful fatty to thinny story out there.
Your personal story if just that – yours. My story is my destiny and only mine. Yes, others can help but there isn’t anyone out there who could force me onto my bike. If I don’t want to ride, I dont care who you are I ain’t getting on that saddle and my size and stubbornness make me as immovable as the Incredible Hulk concentrating on having a poo.
This is up to us. You, me (them… everybody!!! Sorry, I grew up in the 80’s #LovetheBluesBrothers). Concentrate, Russell… where was I? Oh yeah, we take control. Our destiny = our path and we seek success in any small way we can get it. Unfortunately for me this week’s success involved sweating and panting and collapsing after 22 miles peddling against the ruddy wind…