Cycling - The Racing Post

Cycle Logic - Harness the Fear

By Diana North

When it comes to motivation, every cyclist has a story to tell. While some of us struggle more than others to stay focused, on track and eager to ride—all of us bump up against the wall of flagging motivation at some point. How we view it and what we do to deal with it is pretty much up to us. We can give in and vegetate until warm weather arrives, or we can utilize tried-and-true methods or the suggestions of friends to keep us focused and in condition. Not one to refrain from sharing my own opinions, I’ve decided that this year the training tool I’ll use is fear.

Yes, you read correctly. Good, old-fashioned fear has been around for a long time, so I figure I might as well do something useful with it. While days of running from Mastodons have been replaced by days of commuting to workplaces that have a rat-in-the-maze feel to them—our biological make-up remains the same. A quirk of nature left over from caveman days, fear helps us survive and it’s here to stay. Plus, fear provides that nice adrenaline rush that shouldn’t be wasted. And since I’ve been unsuccessful at eradicating it, I’m hoping that harnessing my fear will help me work motivational magic.

Fear can immobilize, of course. But it can also motivate. It can provide the shortcut to an adrenaline rush that can squeeze a peak performance out of nowhere. Rumor has it that a granny can lift a car if enough adrenaline is coursing through her veins. Imagine what granny can do on a 16-pound bike. Imagine what kind of granny wants a 16-pound bike. Would you mess with her?

I first discovered the unique benefits of fear when it goaded me into taking spin classes last year. As temperatures dropped, so did my level of motivation. My fitness, I knew, would follow that trend. Soon I was having nightmares about the people in my cycling group riding off and leaving me. Or worse, that hubby would ride off and leave me. In desperation I scared myself into motivation mode and traipsed off to spin class in hopes of warding off disaster. And it worked. I not only survived spinning but I was one of the few people who didn’t end up whining about springtime headwinds.

Since then I’ve used fear to make myself ride in weather so miserable that I questioned my sanity. All I did was focus on whatever scared me, which is so easy anyone can do it. For example, while in spin class or running on the gym treadmill—I envisioned getting dropped on those upcoming group rides. To make it scarier, I imagined being so slow and out of shape that I’d get stranded on a new route, which of course everyone would know but me. Big, slobbering dogs would come out of the bushes and chase me. Bubbas would buzz me in huge, dirt-crusted dualies with gun racks in the back window. I’d forgotten to pack my GU and energy bars and would have no money to buy any. As you can see, one fear led to another until there I was showing up for spin classes or training rides like a newly converted zealot.

I’ve successfully used fear to get myself off the couch and on the bike. I’ve used it to talk myself into riding longer or harder than I’d planned to. I have even asked myself scary questions like, “do you want to have your butt handed to you by the neighbor with the Toto-carrying wicker basket strapped to the front of her bike?” That alone was enough to give me nightmares, since the Wizard of Oz traumatized me as a child. Fear has even helped me get back on a normal eating plan in time for spring training, when I can no longer pretend the small roll under my jersey is caused by layers of long underwear.

Another twist that can compliment the use of fear is humiliation. Dreading snide remarks from cycling buddies may be all that prevents me from showing up, come spring, looking like an overstuffed sausage. Or from sliding into sluggishness to the point where I break a sweat unloading my bike or suiting up. When the temperatures climb, I know somebody will inevitably get stuck gasping and swearing just off the back of the pace line. Fear mixed with my desire to avoid such humiliation assures that the somebody suffering at the back won’t be me.

In the pace line, I tell myself that a good dose of fear keeps my senses sharp, my reflexes quick and that good old adrenaline coursing through my veins. Some of my personal fear-based suggestions are; dogs, other cyclists, cars—especially big trucks, lightning strikes, bonking, crashing, the pain of road rash, ambulance rides and hospital stays. Also; bringing up the rear for a whole ride, hitting a dead armadillo followed closely by not being able to see things before I hit them— such as potholes and cracks. Getting spit out the back, otherwise known as being dropped—especially in unfamiliar territory. Not finishing. Finishing last. Being lapped. And those are just a sampling.

I’m pleased that I’ve found a use for my fear. I’m glad it helps me stay in shape and sometimes allows me to turn stark raving panic into adrenaline-laced power that is useful in headwinds and sprints. It can get me out of bed or off the couch and into the sausage-casings I wear for cold rides and spin classes. It even overrides the gloom of bad weather, plummeting temperatures and stinging rain on rides I would have missed if fear hadn’t driven me there in the first place. To this day, I’m convinced fear has kept me from being accused of riding like a skirt-wearing sissy. Now if I could only figure out how to use it to fool my brain into thinking I should be riding like a pro.