So here we are, skidding towards the end of my first week of training for the King Alfred’s Way Challenge, and to say it’s been a challenge is an understatement. In fact, if I’m being honest, there are times I’m convinced my bike is conspiring against me.
First off, the whole one balance nerve thing. Yep, you read that right. I have the extra luxury of living with post brain surgery balance issues, and you can bet it’s adding drama to every ride. Picture me, wobbling with each head turn, or glance over my shoulder, trying to make sure I don’t end up on the tarmac. I look at the social media pages of those cycling friends I admire – they look so ‘graceful’, and I am so far from that it’s painful. I am quite dependent on having someone with me when I ride, someone to be my eyes and ears behind me. This is great for the odd weekend ride, but when I’m out during the week, this is a problem… and I really need to get over the anxiety to do this!
Then there’s the motion sickness—yep, I’ve been feeling like I did a cycle in the washing machine. Totally expected, but also totally unpleasant. I’ve had to put in the repeat prescription request for prochlorperazine, which I’m getting through faster than normal. I can’t tell if I’m getting used to it or if my body is just revolting in new and exciting ways, but it’s certainly testing my limits – and my gag reflex!
Then there’s the gender-specific issues down below. Training for a multi-day cycling adventure isn’t exactly the spa experience I imagined it would be. I’m now on first-name terms with every single inch of my saddle. And not in a fun, romantic way. Before you make the suggestion, yes, I invested in quite an expensive seat, and was measured up beforehand! However, I think that having 3 children and now perimenopause totally screws with your ‘architecture’ in that department. At one point I may have strapped a cushion to the seat… I found myself laughing out loud a few days ago, as I chatted with a lovely lady currently on her own brain tumour journey, as we discussed popping my gel pants into the freezer pre ride, or modifying those eye masks that you can chill. I was even considering where else it would be safe to use Orajel – I mean seriously, I think there is definitely a niche in the market!
On a slightly more serious note, let’s consider body image… In the last couple of years, I’ve really lost a lot of confidence in how I look. I feel like from my waist down, my body doesn’t belong to me anymore. Every single day, I look in the mirror filled with self-doubt (and at times, self-loathing). I have looked at my nutrition (several times!) but nothing that used to work for me works anymore. I have increased weight training; there’s dumbbells in my bedroom and living room, along with kettle bells. If the kettle is on, I’ll do a few lifts whilst waiting for it to boil… My arms are looking ok, but everything else? Not so much… I feel like my body is working against me, and I don’t like it when it let’s me down like that. I really wish I didn’t have neurofatigue, just so I could go out and do a double training session to burn a few more calories.
But here’s the thing—I’m not quitting. Sure, I might be wobbling, motion-sick, and sore in places I didn’t think could get sore. But I’m still going. Because just like every day of my pre and post op survival pushed my limits and taught me something about myself, every ride is pushing me further, and every challenge is teaching me something new. My brain – and body – are figuring out how to adapt, and I’m finding the mental strength to keep going even when I want to tap out and curl up in a blanket with some chocolate.
So, as I head towards week two of this cycling madness (and I’ve not plucked up the courage to look at the training plan yet) I’ve got one thing on my mind: no matter how hard it gets, I’m not giving up. The King Alfred’s Way might have its ups and downs (literally), and I’m sure there will be tears but I will get there, and who knows, I may even learn to enjoy it.
If nothing else, it’s certainly giving me some memorable stories to tell. Stay tuned for the next chapter—hopefully, I’ll still be upright!
My fundraising page is now live and you can donate here.
Every single penny raised goes towards supporting those in the brain tumour community who are surviving every day… and that’s tough. Because brain tumours and their treatments often leave life long side effects – and there’s not much support out there to help people deal with that.