Soul Cycle - Lessons from the Road 24th Sept to 6th Oct 2013

So there I was thinking that at the end of each day's cycling on this trip that would take us from the furthest tip of England to the most northern tip of Scotland, I would have time to reflect and write down my learnings from each stint of journeying.  How wrong I was to think that I'd have the energy to do this! 

Us at the start!

One of the major things I did learn about myself is that i spend much of my time focused on how what I am doing might be a help to others too.  I spent so many hours on my bike reflecting on how this experience was changing me, inviting me into my development as a person and seeing so many life lessons in my daily activity.  And when we got back to the hotel in the evenings, all I could do was phone home, have a bath, get clean, eat and then collapse into my bed before getting up in the dark to start all over again in the morning.  

I managed to capture some of the highlights of my learning in note form as I knew I wanted to write this blog post and I was determined to have this be a part of my development rather than something I just did and then moved on from. 

 Me in a cold bath to help my muscles!

Being on the road day after day on a bicycle was quite something.  Each morning the vulnerability arose in me with a feeling of nausea and worry.  One of the main focuses was eating so we had enough energy to do constant physical exercise all day without running out of fuel.  And when you're feeling sick in the morning from nerves, eating is the last thing you want to do! Each and every day I had to face my feelings of inadequacy, self-doubt, fear and worry.  I had to continue putting one foot in front of the other, and doing one pedal after the other to carry on through this feeling again and again. 

Once we were out on the road and my survival instinct kicked in, my sickness would dissipate and I became hyper alert and ready for the challenge.  For much of the ride, as I'm an inexperienced road cyclist, I was concentrating on keeping up and navigating the junctions that came in our path. My imagination started to become detailed and dramatic, seeing all the accidents that could happen with bikes and cars, and my fear was a bit part of my daily experience.  My friend Christy was killed by a car only a month ago, and this has meant I am looking at cars pretty differently these days, especially when I'm not in one and they are all bigger and more powerful than me on the road. 

So now you have a picture of the rawness of me in this new situation, here are the things I learned along the way - and each of them came from the darker side of me - the fearful, worried, anxious, self-doubting, untrusting and 'survival mode' version of Lizzie. 

Take your place - you benefit and so does everyone else when you let others know you're here to be seen.

Somehow this curious lesson was the first to come to my mind when I was learning to be on my bike for a very long time each day - sometimes in heavy traffic, sometimes on remote and quiet roads.  What I figured out is that when I hesitated, was fearful, unsure and doubting - everyone hesitated, everyone was unsure.  I saw the impact that I had.  How I was determined how everyone on the road around me was - other cyclists and also car and truck drivers.  The more clear I was, the more fully I occupied my space, the less danger I was in and the smoother things went.  

For me this is a life lesson.  So much of the time we are adjusting ourselves, fitting in, trying to be normal and all the while we are hesitating, not being fully honest with what we stand for, what's important to us and what's meaningful.  By staying on the side lines, playing 'safe' we are doing ourselves a disservice and others around us get to behave in the same way.  Being on my bike was the clearest and most embodied experience of this phenomenon that says when we change, our world changes.  As I decided on taking my place on the road, everyone else changed too and I could feel it and see it.  

Benefit from the slipstream - and lead when the wind takes you.  

We were cycling in a group of really fit, mostly male cyclists.  So the chances of me being at the front, leading the pack were slim to none! And the group broke up into about 3 smaller groups each day almost immediately that we started riding.  From there on, we learned quickly that following behind someone stronger so that they could 'take the wind' and use more energy was the way to go.  It was a huge benefit for the ones who were not so strong to have the stronger cyclists 'pulling them along' behind.  This is my first ever experience of knowing that the word SLIPSTREAM actually means something.  I had never known the effect of this before, I'd just heard it when people talked about fast cars.   

The point of this lesson was that in life I could see how we all get so independent that we think we've got to do things alone, we have to find our own way, or do our own thing.  My slipstreaming showed me that it takes humility and courage to follow.  And that's how it's meant to be.  We are supposed to learn from the stronger ones, the ones further along the path.  And when the time comes, we then get to be the stronger one and provide others with a slipstream to follow in so that some of the work is easier for them.  The humility that comes from following is a quality you need as a leader so when we get the chance to slipstream, it teaches us what we need to know about for when it's our time to lead.

I say this because all the best leaders in our group of cyclists were the ones who were intricately aware of the follower.  For the first time I saw how you can include someone behind you and you can support from in front.  The best leaders were the ones who artfully held the balance between pushing forward so that we kept speed and constantly adjusted to the person behind so that they never fell too far away that they were no longer benefitting from the slipstream created. And the effect that the leader had on the follower by including them in this way was to inspire greater effort, stronger cycling and keeping pace.  

The other thing about a slipstream is that sometimes it slingshots you forward when you're least expecting it.  You can be drafting (or following) for ages and suddenly, something happens where you can't help but overtake the person in front of you.  It's like you are propelled forward without intending to be.  It happens naturally.  It's the effect of following.  At some point, the wind takes you, when you've learned lots and you're right there, following and paying attention.  Suddenly you become the leader and it's your turn to bring people along behind you.  And because you've attentively followed, you know intimately what it's like to be in that position, so you can include them and bring them along too. 

Faith is real, it's the perfect match for fear. 

This bike ride has been an awakening for me.  An awakening into how much fear I am experiencing if I look carefully.  I would be cycling along and all that I could think of were all the accidents that were probably going to happen.  I had to stay vigilant otherwise they would certainly happen to me.  I could see them playing out again and again before my eyes - to me and everyone else on the ride.  And this didn't stop for the entire 12 days of cycling the length of the United Kingdom.  No respite. Apart from when I was passed out, exhausted in my not so comfortable hotel bed each night (exhausted mainly from being terrified for long periods of each day rather than actually riding a bike!). 

So what did I do to ensure I didn't just get off my bike, put my hands on my hips and say 'this is ridiculously dangerous, irresponsible and terrifying - I'm going home' ? Well that's the curious part.  

Over the past 10 or so years, it would seem that I have been developing another part of myself that is different to the fearful, self-doubting, terrified Lizzie.  I think I have been developing something that I would refer to as faith and love.  And on this cycle, I got to see how strong this was.  It was available every day.  The choice to stop, to have a tantrum, to curl up and tell everyone to leave me alone and I'd find my own way home.  And the choice for something else was also there.  Which surprised me.  

I repeatedly made the choice to have faith.  In the scariest moments when it was wet and the hills were long and steep and my hands were killing me because they'd been pulling in the brakes for what felt like hours, I said prayers, talked to my family, thanked my friends, named everyone I knew was supporting me and thanked them out loud.  I had faith in myself, in life that whatever was going to happen would be something that I could handle, that I could come through.  Each time I noticed my fear, I would also invite my faith to be present too.  They sat side by side for the whole trip.  And the faith won out each time.  The faith got me to the bottom of the hills, the faith got me to the top of the hills.  The faith had me keep turning my legs and the faith had me join in again and again when I felt like I wanted to run away and crawl into my bed.  

What I learned is that fear is not something we need to act upon, it's not something we even need to 'do' much about.  It's just that we have to match it.  We don't need to try and change it but let it be there and bring an equal dose of faith to meet it.  Ultimately faith is stronger than fear, so you don't need that much of it.  A little bit of faith gets you a long way and it's certainly the best match for fear. 

Run with the pack you want to be part of even if you don't feel ready and you'll be 

enveloped. 

I have heard people talking about the 'fake it 'til you make it' philosophy.  And it's always made me feel really awkward.  Being authentic and real is one of the most important things to me in my life.  So 'faking it' feels like asking me to lie.  But this trip had me see this differently.  

What I realised is that my body is a pretty powerful thing.  And it relates to life quite differently to my small and fearful opinion of myself.  What I learned was that even though I felt inadequate, a total beginner, an amateur, I could still join in.  I just had to do what everyone else did and pretend like it was normal.  And it was pretty challenging to do this, but my body was up for it if I asked it to be.  

So at the start of the trip and before, we would be travelling at around 12-14mph on the bikes. And when we started the trip we saw that we'd have to go way faster than this to keep up with the group.  The first few days were painful and we were arriving much later than the rest of the group which mean we had way less recovery time, no time to do our LEJOG blogs or have a nice bath and a rest before dinner.  So we started doing what everyone else did and we started to go faster, feel more confident and keep up with the group.  Slowly we became like everyone else in terms of our capability as cyclists.  It's how humans work I think - we naturally 'normalise'.  We become like those around us.

So, in saying this, it occurs to me that we need to choose carefully who we hang around with, who we work with, who we run with, who we ride with, who we journey with.  Because us humans are all the same - we quickly become each other.  So, this is what we are faced with: we are learners, and our bodies are infinitely flexible in their capacity to take on new things.  And one of the ways of us changing, is to ride with the ones that have already mastered what you'd love to master.  The body will take care of it - we just need to take ourselves into the pack, find the pack and let our bodies do the work.  

The invitation to us all here is to experiment with stepping into something that you really want to do.  Surround yourself with people who are more skilled at it than you.  Let your body learn from them.  Run with them often.  Absorb them and see how much you improve and learn.  It happens naturally when we are part of something.  We take it on, we take it up.  And it's natural. 

When it feels uncomfortable, get over yourself. 

This cycle ride was also a process of me getting intimately acquainted with my super ego, or inner critic (the voice in our heads that gives us a hard time, criticises us, wants us to stay small).  Through the process of learning to cycle in a group and fast, my inner critic raged in all sorts of sneaky ways.  

Despite my wish to complete this ride (even though I had no idea what I was getting myself into!) the voice in my head was constantly nattering on to me about how I was not good enough, not experienced enough, too weak, too tired, incapable.  It would say to me that I was too far behind, that I was so much worse than everyone else on the trip, much less fit, much less skilled.  

And what I learned is that there is something else to me other than this constant nagging voice.  There is a wish that's stronger.  A presence that's bigger and a self that isn't bound to acting on what the voice says that I am or what I should do.  

My lesson here is that it's so important to identify the inner critic, to get close to it and know when it's talking - that way we can choose what to do with it and to follow through with our heart's desire instead of our critic's desire.  It will always feel uncomfortable when we are out of our comfort zone.  And what I call 'getting over ourselves' is an act of identifying with our true, big, higher, more expanded selves, and over-riding our inner critic. 

Know that who you really are is far more capable and resourceful than you can understand.

I know for sure now that this is a fact.  Who I think I am could not have ridden from Land's End to John O'Groats on a road racing bike.  No way.  And yet who I am actually did that.  It was me.  My legs went round and round and I reached John O'Groats.  And not a taxi ride in site.  I am still in disbelief about this.  I have to keep looking at the pictures to see that it was me.  Who I think I am still believes I could not do this.  And it will probably remain unconvinced forever.  And yet the facts say something different.  

And it's clear - the real me got me through all this.  The real me didn't believe what I was telling myself.  The real me had a strong enough voice and a strong enough presence to have this happen - even when my thoughts so strongly doubted my capability to do this once in a lifetime, very challenging journey that even top cyclists wince at when you tell them you're doing it. 

What I know for sure is that who we really are is way more powerful, way more resourceful, way more capable than we can possibly know or understand. And it's our responsibility to explore ourselves, challenge ourselves and step out of our comfort zone to experience our truth. 

Nothing is ever as it seems. 

When you're riding along at a nice speed on a bike and you've been going for a very long time already and you look up and there's a hill in front of you, there is a sinking feeling, a deep inhalation and the fear of pain arrives.  The hill always looks horrendous given how tired your legs feel and how many hills you've already done.  At the start of the 12 days the hills were particularly steep and frequent - I never knew Cornwall and Devon were so mountainous! 

What I learned from this though was that I saw the hills in the same way as I see challenges in my life.  When I look at them from afar, when they are ahead of me, they look difficult, they look problematic.  And yet when I arrived at the hills, they were always different than what I had imagined them to be.  I always got up them even when I thought I couldn't and it taught me to stay on the piece of road I'm on right now.  And when I get to the hills, I will also stay on that piece of road, and it doesn't help me to imagine how the hills are going to be.  It may help to know the topography so I can do the appropriate training, but when you're approaching the hill, when you can see it ahead, it doesn't help to imagine how difficult it's going to be, it doesn't help to try and figure out how you are going to do it before you get there.  

What I am taking away from this lesson is that nothing is what it seems, even if you think you've understood what it's going to be like, you haven't and because of this, something else is always required of you than what you thought. So we may as well focus on the part of the journey we are on right now and give ourselves fully to it, and then by the time we reach the difficulty, we'll be practised at giving ourselves fully, and that's all challenges require - giving ourselves wholeheartedly to them and we come through.

Self-compassion and kindness are more sustainable than comparison and competition. 

I'm sure you can imagine the scene - lots of men on bikes, riding the length of the UK and beneath the surface there is competition.  Everyone is seeing what bike everyone else has, all of the group are eyeing up each other's cycle wear and kit.  And of course there's the 'it's not a race' part of the journey which people say and secretly put aside and try and go faster than everyone else. 

We had an underlying competition about who got to the lunch stops first, and who got home first.  No one actually named this but it was there.  One day the slow group reached lunch before the fast group which was a small miracle and totally unexpected.  And when the fast group turned up they had to instantly qualify that the reason they were later is that they'd done 10 extra miles on a route they had taken off the one we were following.  The competition was on even if no one was explicitly saying it.

So, in this atmosphere, which I have to say was equally filled with generosity, humour, compassion and many acts of kindness, I got to watch the effects of our competitive nature on myself.  I include myself in the competitiveness too by the way. I'm not lost on the fact that even my language about 'slower' and 'faster' is a result of this natural human tendency to want to win. 

One of the biggest lessons on this theme for me was on a hill in Scotland called Drumnadrochit near Beauly on the Black Isle.  It was a 16% hill that went on for a mile and everyone was talking about it as a huge challenge.  Some were calling it an 'act of stupidity' that it was even on the route at all.  And all this did was make me terrified!  By this point my right knee had packed up and I was on anti inflammatories and sometimes cycling in a way that I only put power through my left leg because it hurt so much on my right to push the pedals down on a hill.  

We started up the hill and I knew we still had 2 days of cycling to go.  2 days that I needed my legs to work for if I was going to complete the challenge.  And I could feel the competition, the expectation to get up the hill without walking, and I started at the bottom, head down and turning my legs - and then it got really steep.  Suddenly I realised what I was doing - I was trying to ride up the hill so that I hadn't 'failed' - and I was trying to ride up the hill so that I could say I had not stopped. So I went to the side of the road, and in my greatest moment of sanity, I got off my bike.  And I felt so happy, and light and pleased with myself.  It was like I had let myself off the hook, and I knew that my knee was going to be so happy with me for doing this. 

What I learned is that when we're in anything for the long haul, we need to be generous to ourselves and resist being a slave to comparison and competition. Self compassion and kindness are enduring and necessary for our well being. And they make us feel really good.  In that moment, I could see how deep the competition and performance narrative is in our culture and I could also see how I was not totally convinced by it.  Being kind to myself and my body is what enabled me, not what stopped me.  And I felt so much stronger for it.  

So often we compare and compete.  And many times we'll win and feel great about ourselves for a minute.  But it's short lived, so we need to win again in order to stay up or feeling good.  What's interesting about self compassion and kindness is that it's more enduring, sustaining and supportive.  And that's so often what we lack in our modern culture.  A way of being that's not reliant on the next thing, the next challenge - but something in us that's more stretched out, more expanded, that holds us and soothes us and keeps us going.  

What's your Mantra ? 

During the hours and hours of cyling we did, I found that what was really happening is that in the long stretches of drafting (being very close to the bike in front so you are in their slipstream) I was in fact meditating.  And when I was scared (for example going down a very steep hill very fast with painful hands and it was heavily raining) I was also calling on this part of me that I have developed which can meditate and stay focused.  

What I found really helped me and supported me through this was a new mantra I developed.  I got to see how a mantra can remind me of myself, of who I am and this becomes what we focus on rather than the thing that's causing us difficulty.  Of course the thing that causes us difficulty does not disappear, but there's something else there in that moment.  We get to see that we are not only the circumstance of our life, that more is here right now, in amidst the struggle. 

My mantra turned out to be a singing gratitude.  My mantra birthed itself - it was what came out, it was what I needed but didn't know I needed it.  It was a singing of Thank you and then naming all the people in my life who I care about and who care about me.  I feel this is important because at times we won't be able to feel the point of things that are difficult.  The difficulty will often cloud why we set out on this challenge, relationship, job or mission in the first place.  So I believe we all need to have a powerful way of reminding ourselves of the point of what we are doing.  One that brings us back to the meaning and the path we're on.

The power of community. 

The final thing I've learned even more strongly about is that we should never underestimate the power of being connected to others on the same path as us.  By this I mean people who get you, who make up your community and who laugh with you through the challenges. I think I discovered true meaning and significance of 'camaraderie'.  I discovered how powerful it is for us to travel alongside people up to the same thing as us.  Who are willing to go through the difficulties with us because they know the heart of what we are up to.  Doing this kind of thing alone is probably impossible.  

I know that without the group of people who did this with me, I would not have got very far at all.  Each act of kindness, each cup of tea, each encouraging comment contributed to me being able to continue on each day.  And I saw this of my community at home - at work and in my development communities.  People who share the path keep me on it, see me through difficulties and inspire me to renew my commitment to the true work and meaning of my life.  

We did it!!