Suffering

Suffering is a wonderful feeling. It's addictive and requires hard work to embrace it. That's what endurance sport is all about. Strange, a foreign concept to many of you, but it's true.

My mind goes back to an evening around 12 years ago. I had gone out for a long run on a spring evening but had gone too far. The legs were very tired and it was starting to become a struggle to put one foot in front of another. I was now on the shallow gradient on the Innocent Railway, just short of the long, dark and dank tunnel under Arthur's Seat. Sweat was now stinging into the raw area of skin on my inner thigh, the result of continuous rubbing for the last 2 hours. Blood was trickling down towards my knee. But I was smiling. "F**k, how I love this" as I embraced the suffering.

As soon as I got home, I impulsively entered Ironman Switzerland, the toughest race of my life. It wasn't as if I was scared of the distance as I'd done it the year before. But without enough time to prepare, I got it in my head that if I could just go a bit faster, I could go sub 10 hours and qualify for the big one in Hawaii. Although the organisers said it was a very fast course, they hadn't been quite honest. I pushed trying to maintain the 36km.h I needed to, but after a long slog up a never ending slope and the 2nd ascent of Heart Break Hill, my legs fell off. The marathon was a war of attrition but I made it over the line, 2 hours and 15 minutes behind schedule. Switzerland was my last race in many years, apart from the odd time-trial or short running race. I started doing triathlon again last year.

A few months ago, I entered my bogie race yet again, the Tour of the Meldons, a hilly time trial in the Scottish Borders. I've only finished it once and even then in almost last place. In the last two events, I've suffered a mechanical and an exercise induced asthma attack and vowed never to do it again... but stupidly I did it again this year. Conditions were atrocious. Gale force winds and heavy rain. Mentally, I was a gonner even before it started.

Hitting the first climb, I was in trouble, seeing that my heart-rate was below what I'd expect when the door went signalling the arrival of a pizza. I ended up mildly hypothermic and in a real mess. Three years running, I had failed. I'm pretty good at putting a brave face on such things but deep down I was really upset because I realised that I had lost the ability to embrace suffering.

A few weeks later and my targeted race for the season was getting closer, The Snowdonia Slateman. There was every chance the weather would be bad there too. I needed to toughen up so I did a ridiculous thing. I cycling to work in a thin triathlon suit in close to freezing temperatures and in pouring rain.

The descent into Hyde was horrible but I pushed on as hard as I could. "I don't feel the cold" I said to myself and I didn't. On arriving at work, my hands and lower arms were white. The rest of my exposed skin was a deep red colour, not looking at all good. A colleague had to unclip my helmet, I stood in the shower for as long as time would allow, shivering violently. I was smiling, just like that fateful evening that I entered Ironman Switzerland.

What's that got to do with today's Blip you may ask? Well, I had been to Unicorn to do a shop and had over an hour to kill before swimming. I decided to stop and read my book in Alexandra Park on the edge of Moss Side to read my book. But I was reflecting on my training ride earlier in the day, a hilly training circuit involving 700m of climbing in 30km. My aim was simple, to embrace the pain. I did the circuit faster than I've ever done before.

I can't dig that deep, even in a race. Somehow, my lack of confidence gets the better of me and I get angry that I'm not good enough. I suspect nothing is good enough. On my own though, it's just me racing against my own little demons. Learning how to suffer again is cathartic and I'm able to defeat them once again.