Cycling has long been in my life, but I never appreciated how important it is to me until I couldn’t ride due to emerging inflammatory arthritis symptoms. It started as a niggle in my knee which became more insistent until the point I couldn’t even pedal a static bike. And of all the difficulties I was having with joint pain, fatigue and deteriorating mental health, not being on the trails was what hit me hardest, caused me the most tears and gave me the most relief when I finally got back there. Now I’m slowly building back to where I was, I can reflect on why.
As a kid I was pretty fearless. I grew up riding ponies and by the time I was 8, was flying round cross-country courses, on a slightly unhinged creature with my Mum unable to watch. These days Mum still worries about me but has accepted that calculated risks make me happy. That buzz from making it down a sketchy rock garden is how I’m wired. With mountain biking there is a beautiful mix of fear, awe, and accomplishment. There is always more to learn, plenty to challenge and many little successes. My brain needs this, it needs stretched and entertained, it needs the adrenaline rush.
Riding bikes has also taught me that I thrive on making progress. I love a steep learning curve and in MTB I found a sport that continually presents me with new things to attempt. This year it’s getting over those pesky gap jumps. I might be an adrenaline junkie, but I have a very good imagination too and I have visualised all the possible ways a gap jump could eat me up.
That negative imagination is something which cycling helps me with. I often feel like my brain won’t shut up, with worries and rumination running riot. I have struggled with my mental health all my adult life and sport plays a huge part in managing this. Being on a trail with so much to focus on, so many decisions coming at you quickly, it conversely gives me peace; the mindfulness of only concentrating on one immediately pressing thing at a time. It gives me something concrete and urgent to focus on, instead of what happened yesterday or what is to come tomorrow. Coupled with the positive effect of the physical activity endorphin hit, it has become my therapy.
Another part of this therapy is the time spent in nature. I am lucky to have grown up and returned to live in the Highlands. I am surrounded by beautiful scenery, fascinating flora and fauna, and endless trails to explore. I can ride from my door into remote glens, imposing mountains and across wide open moors. And I often do this solo, giving me the opportunity to stop and soak it in at my own pace, but I also love introducing others to this side of riding too. It’s a great feeling to escape the world into a forest.
Solo adventures have also shown me how resilient and self-sufficient I can be. Nothing boosts your self-esteem like successfully fixing a side wall puncture with duct tape and patching the inner tube without taking the wheel off before continuing on to finish your multi-day, 950km gravel tour with your repairs still holding out. Lack of self-belief is another thing I struggle with, but when I reflect on what I’ve accomplished on a bike it makes me a little bit prouder of myself.
Take the Strathpuffer, 24 hours of mud, snow, ice and mainly darkness. Twice I’ve taken it on solo; during and not long after three unsuccessful rounds of IVF. I had been through injections of hormones, weight gain and the emotional pain of hope and heartbreak, so showing myself that my body, which had let me down, was something to celebrate, was incredibly important. My relationship with my body has always been a turbulent one and riding my bike keeps giving me reasons to be proud. Long distance epics, making it up that tricky climb, mastering new skills.
Although I love riding on my own, I also really appreciate the community around me and enjoy introducing others to all these wonderful aspects of cycling. At school I get to share the joy and excitement, taking pupils on social rides, overnight bikepacking and skills sessions. I am on the leadership pathway and despite arthritis’s best effort to derail me, I’m hoping to achieve my Level 3 MBL by the end of the year. One of my first adventures by bike was through school. At the age of 14, a maths teacher, Mr Keast, took us from Bonar Bridge to Ullapool, coast to coast. I love that I am getting to inspire the next generation to be riders and adventurers too.
The final thing I get from cycling is I can be more me when I’m out on the trails. I find riding with others an easier way to socialise; you share a common love, and we can chat for hours about trails ridden or new routes planned. I have the Trash Free Trails community, with whom a geeky conversation about biodiversity and mosses can be had on the uplift at Dyfi. The Adventure Syndicate, the most hilarious and compassionate group of women I have ever had the pleasure of sharing bike rides with. Enduro organisers who have created such a fun and supportive atmosphere, that even falling off in front of the start gate on a Scolty hillside didn’t stop me from coming back for more races. The ladies I have met at Limitlass and Dirt Divas over the years, who have taught me about suspension set up, stoppies, and sending it down Dunkeld rock.
And to all the supportive riders who have encouraged me to follow their wheel and believed in me more than I did, thank you.
Thank you, Jane, for sharing this thoughtful reflection on your experience of cycling and the healing, therapeutic benefits it can bring.
If you’d like to share your own cycling story in our monthly Scottish Cycling BlogHER feature, please email Melanie, our Women and Girls Development Manager, at [email protected].