Sunday, April 23, 2023

The Highland Trail 550, not 2023

It's been a long time coming, a post about not doing the HT this year. Earlier versions could have held a lot of complaining but now, I'm so overwhelmingly OK with my decision, this post is only to serve as a sort of wrap-up piece. 

My love for cycling is temporarily on hold. I can still enjoy a bike ride but it's been for the occasional whimsical jollies, running errands and not using a car on my holidays. I no longer feel inclined to train but have instead slipped into the simple habit of purely enjoying my daily life. 

Where 5 years ago I enjoyed my long bike rides and 10 years ago I enjoyed packing swimming, cycling and running into daily life to spit triathlons out at the end, I'm now celebrating the pure joy of movement through a landscape with my dog by my side. 

Last weekend we walked and sniffed for 15 hours across two days. We ate 2 lunches, breakfast and dinner OUT. We cooked dinner watching the sunset from a peak bog, pee'd in the bracken and were lulled to sleep by the haunting cries of Curlew, Jack Snipe and owls. We walked our legs off on Sunday and I was suddenly struck by the same peaceful monotony bike packing has brought me these last few years: being at the exhausted edge of consciousness doing nothing but moving forward because there's nothing else to do and no other way to get home (although the dog did want to get on the bus as it passed). 

It's no longer about how quickly I can move through a landscape or how much I can see. This weekend we went to Bamford and Hathersage on a day walk., using footpaths I've never been on before (or for so long ago I don't remember). 

We have found valleys and views I never knew existed then inevitably been spat out somewhere I know perfectly well - a stile that I have cycled past hundreds of times. I've stumbled across many wonderful bivi spots. All out of reach to any (but the most audacious, cheeky) bikers and set away behind squirreled little gates, stiles and dry-stone-wall gaps that are hardly wide enough for my hips, never mind my handlebars. I'm confident I could do 15 hours travel a day for 5-8 days but my backside is not accustomed to bike travel anymore. 

The knee-pain I "wear-in" every year is fresh as January snow and my shoulders start to click when I ride to work for the day.  So I will be happy to sit it out of the Highland Trail this year - maybe from afar or maybe from close up. Who knows? 

I'll not regret missing this years group start. What I learned last year is that the hard parts are not the hard parts. The hard parts are the monotonous boring parts - the transition pieces that are just about turning the pedals and not falling asleep and nowadays I'm so very tired.

I'm not sure if knowing what's ahead makes it any worse or better. 

When you know how long it goes on for, everything gets nearer. Until you forget how far away that next bit is and you're not moving as fast as you used to and then it takes, oh such a long time. 

And I'll not miss those race-time missing out moments - the feeling that it would be nice just to stop "here" another hour / a little longer / for the night / climb" that" peak / watch the sunset.

Instead for the first time in years, I'm looking forwards to the future... the future me.

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