Leave it behind

 I once went on an extended pub crawl dressed as Yoda from Star Wars. It was a very long evening as I recall, and sadly before the days of ubiquitous camera phones. So no digital pictures exist that I can share with you, although I’m sure some of my fellow participants, some of which I am still in contact with, may have some paper ones somewhere. 

In my professional career there are a few film analogies and stories that I have milked to death, and this is one of them.

It was actually an organised work event, early 2000s as I recall. Nowadays the idea that a major employer would encourage that kind of thing - allowing, no promoting, the idea that hundreds of its People go round the pubs of Bristol and get paralytically drunk, (for charity) probably cuts across good Wellbeing practice. Who knows, maybe the event persists, I know it’s recalled fondly as evidenced by frequent Memories on Facebook.

In the light of 2020, the whole idea of Wellbeing has assumed massive proportions. I’m sure our ancestors, cave-dwellers, peat-walkers, and subsistence farmers etc would laugh at how we have moaned and griped our way through what is a fairly minor bit of pestilence, historically-speaking anyway. But then again, they probably had more resilience than we now have, and hadn’t yet figured a way to contrive their world into such an inter-dependent, convoluted techno-bubble. 

Bubble, a word only previously associated with “I’m Forever blowing” etc. Yes, I was in that crowd singing, a great day out it was too. Although watching football from the warmth and comfort of your living room has many advantages, it’s nothing like the real thing, particularly in the cold and damp of December. But yes, I have missed it. As for these other Jonny-come-lately “bubbles”, what’s wrong with just using the word “Group”? 

And DGMS on “self-isolation”. We used to call it quarantine which I’m almost pleased to see named as Word of the Year by the Cambridge Dictionary. What an honour. Back when a name was first given to it, it meant 40 days away from people, Italian and ships I think. Nowadays it means whatever the latest set of complicated local restrictions says it means. In whichever tier you are in.

There was also a time when the word “mute” wasn’t offensive, whereas now it’s just become one of those hilarious things to say to the person who can’t figure out the controls of whichever video platform they happen to be using that day. Or who has become so engrossed in reading emails that they’ve lost sight of the fact there was a conversation going on.

But behind all of my tongue in cheek cynicism, there are some serious points of course. We have all had to deal with a lot. My public face might look all cheerful, plain and professional, but outside of the sight lines of the camera it’s a mess. 

Cables and junk absolutely everywhere, tasks half-started and never finished, whilst lurking in the background is a bit of Christmas promise, to be quickly followed by the gloom of the New Year. 

Yes, it’s been tough. Yes that’s a metaphor.

I’m sure many of you have also struggled, and I’m no exception, but, in time-honoured fashion, I don’t want to make a fuss. Nor am I comparing my challenges with yours, or saying I know how you feel.  Our normal, bearable day-to-day struggles have been tipped over the edge by isolation, illness or the threat of it, but above all, by uncertainty and novelty. Not in a good way.

But just for once I’m going to break Shirley’s rule and make a bit of a fuss. Because finally my own poor choices have caught up with me, not in a big way, more in an early-warning way, face this or die horribly in the future way. Much as I’d like to bury my head in the sand, my heart won’t allow it.

I have been diagnosed with something called pre-diabetes. I’m 77kg, 171cm and have slightly elevated blood sugar than is good for me. I won’t give you all the detail about glycated haemoglobin, suffice to say that I’ve just slipped over the border into bandit country.  

Despite a fairly active life, and reasonably good diet, it has not come as the shock you might expect. For one, experts (them again) reckon about a third of the UK adult population is walking around with this condition, undiagnosed. That’s on top of about 10% who knowingly or unknowingly have full-blow Type 2 Diabetes.  A figure that is expected to rise quickly over the next few years.

My condition is far away from serious, it’s the beginnings of an early-warning sign. It was only picked up in me by a serendipitous  blood test. And whilst I have only just snuck over the line in terms of the figures, I have been fairly sedentary for the last three months, and been absolutely caning the chocolate. So in truth, I was not surprised that the last few months of 2020, on have this on.

My weight has been creeping up for years, gradually, stealthily, and I lazily ignored it. After all, I can still cycle 100km without really breaking a sweat, 200km in a day fairly easily, and my VO2 and FTP are superb for my age. But it’s not enough. Unfortunately, despite what the Daily Mail will have you believe, our behaviour isn’t the only factor at play here. Stress, genetics and lack of sleep can all play their part in influencing our blood sugar, so it’s not all down to lifestyle. Whatever the cause, I am going to have to deal with it, and look at eating more healthily, getting more sleep, reducing my stress and being more active. Easy eh?

Now is the time for me to follow Yoda’s advice. With any luck I can mobilise my compulsive gene to become a full-on healthy-eating and focussed exerciser. But in my heart of hearts I know that’s not me, I will just have to find my own way and do the best I can to reclaim my health, and push the numbers in the right direction.  

Right now I feel exhausted just thinking about it, and I am longing for the next week to pass so I can have some time off at Christmas. Much as the Rapha 500 appeals, I probably should have a break from setting myself tough challenges and concentrate on eating dust and grass. But then again, if this year is to have anything good come out of it, I should look on the bright side. I have the opportunity and the resources to do something about it, and the brains to make the right choices. 

As it goes I have been wrestling with a few other consequences of choices I made in other areas too. It’s time to let those anxieties go as well. I just don’t want to carry that baggage around with me any longer, so along with the chocolate, they will just have to go. 

                                                                            Merry Christmas.

Courting opinions

 Today has been a very odd day. Surreal in places, but ultimately immensely satisfying. It is all about cycling and not about cycling at all. Let me explain.

Back in July I put a Go Pro on my handlebars so that I could edit together a short “film” about one of the 200km rides that Martyn and I did around Somerset. The film was OK, the ride was better, but it was vaguely interesting as my first foray into making YouTube clips. As is the way of these rides, I got home pretty tired, it was the first 200 I’d done since before the first lockdown. So the bike went away for the night, unwashed and the camera mounting still under the Garmin.

Because that weekend had what I can only describe as “perfect cycling weather” (warm, but not too hot, light breeze, sunny skies etc etc) I decided to make the most of it on the Sunday and ride over to Rodney Stoke to see, and then ride with, Steve on a gentle leg loosener. All compliant with social distancing of course.

On the way there I was involved in “The Incident”. I briefly mentioned it in a blog post, which for obvious reasons I had to subsequently take down from this site. The Incident was of course a close pass. I thought it the most dangerous one I’d ever experienced, and one of the worst pieces of driving I’d seen for a long time. I had to take avoiding action to avoid being hit.

Because of the camera being on the bike, the whole incident was captured in HD footage and was soon winging its way to Avon and Somerset Police. Two days later I found out that they’d issued a Notice of Intended Prosecution. In early October I was called as a witness in the driver’s prosecution for Driving without due care, and today that case came to trial. The driver was convicted, given 4 points on his licence and fined £482 inclusive of costs.

I don’t want to say too much about the actual trial, and all the details that go with it, you can ask me if you see me and are that interested.  But what did strike me about the whole thing, was how utterly unnecessary it all was. The driver did not have to behave as he did back in July. He could have used some logic and entered a guilty plea, or taken some advice from a wiser friend. He is not a man of means, and is now in the invidious position of having to repay that fine over the next year. His licence will carry those points for a few years, and affect his insurance premiums.

But will it change his behaviour? Well, maybe he might think twice for fear of future retribution and punishment. But I’m not convinced he really, truly understands how dangerous his driving was. It may be this is one small victory in the battle against our terrible “car-obsessed, got-to-get-in-front-at-al-costs” driving culture. A few recent events have brought out the best and the worst in people, and I think so much of our society has become too polarised, too quick to argue and too slow to listen.

Maybe court cases and “calling people out” are the way to tackle the ills of our world. But as 2020 draws to a close perhaps we can take some time to think of ways in which we could all get along with each other, and ideally, not come close to killing anyone whilst driving a car. By the way, 2020 has been bad, but ask Cambodians, Southern Slavs, Rwandans, and many, many more people all over the world, if there have been worst years since 1945 and I’m sure they will say yes. My 22, 916 minutes of engagement with Spotify do not signal a bad year either. 

I was shaken by the Incident, so much so that I acquired two new cameras (the original GoPro fell off on a descent on the Mendips, into a long-grass verge, never to be found), but I have yet to fit them to my bikes. Partly because I want to feel that bike riding is about fun, friends and fantastic views. Partly because I don’t need any more extra weight than the second lockdown has given me. It’s amazing how much chocolate you can eat in a month. 

Cycling largely is so joyful for me, and right now we all need more joy. I do for sure. But engaging with all that bad driving just doesn’t feel like any form of joy, and I can’t help but think there must be better ways to change things. Too much fighting. 

For once I am at a loss to know what the right thing to do is. In the meantime, here’s Bristol, in the dark of lockdown, from the bike ride I did last week.