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Caught up in the focus of preparation, then the high of competition - the comedown of normality is embarrassing. Months on from the ride and the reality of what this experience has cost me is apparent. The effort and the exhaustion has triggered a series of pending injuries - a bulging mass of scar tissue on my knee, persistent hamstring tendonitis, a back riddled with knots and hips that won’t bend. All of which has made cycling unbearable at any intensity and the pain refuses to dissipate despite rest, physio and a string of alternative therapies. I’ve become distanced from the sport I love and the people in it. The isolation plays games with my perspective whilst the pendulum of motivation and confidence continually sways.

Cycling is the barrier between myself and my destructive perfectionism. I continually need a project to focus on and refine – it hypnotises and medicates my busy mind. Drip-fed on exhaustion, suspended in a state of survival, there’s no energy for anxiety or useless self-doubt here. It’s a beautiful place to be and I’ve come to depend on it. Purpose frames all things positively. Every difficulty is an opportunity to become stronger, all downtime is rebranded as rest periods, income is sponsorship, and friends and family are my support team. The greatest fear attached to injury and immobility is to lose that purpose, that optimistic tint to the world. Without it I fear I will turn on myself.

Caught up in the focus of preparation, then the high of competition - the comedown of normality is embarrassing. Months on from the ride and the reality of what this experience has cost me is apparent. The effort and the exhaustion has triggered a series of pending injuries - a bulging mass of scar tissue on my knee, persistent hamstring tendonitis, a back riddled with knots and hips that won’t bend. All of which has made cycling unbearable at any intensity and the pain refuses to dissipate despite rest, physio and a string of alternative therapies. I’ve become distanced from the sport I love and the people in it. The isolation plays games with my perspective whilst the pendulum of motivation and confidence continually sways.

Cycling is the barrier between myself and my destructive perfectionism. I continually need a project to focus on and refine – it hypnotises and medicates my busy mind. Drip-fed on exhaustion, suspended in a state of survival, there’s no energy for anxiety or useless self-doubt here. It’s a beautiful place to be and I’ve come to depend on it. Purpose frames all things positively. Every difficulty is an opportunity to become stronger, all downtime is rebranded as rest periods, income is sponsorship, and friends and family are my support team. The greatest fear attached to injury and immobility is to lose that purpose, that optimistic tint to the world. Without it I fear I will turn on myself.

Caught up in the focus of preparation, then the high of competition - the comedown of normality is embarrassing. Months on from the ride and the reality of what this experience has cost me is apparent. The effort and the exhaustion has triggered a series of pending injuries - a bulging mass of scar tissue on my knee, persistent hamstring tendonitis, a back riddled with knots and hips that won’t bend. All of which has made cycling unbearable at any intensity and the pain refuses to dissipate despite rest, physio and a string of alternative therapies. I’ve become distanced from the sport I love and the people in it. The isolation plays games with my perspective whilst the pendulum of motivation and confidence continually sways.

Cycling is the barrier between myself and my destructive perfectionism. I continually need a project to focus on and refine – it hypnotises and medicates my busy mind. Drip-fed on exhaustion, suspended in a state of survival, there’s no energy for anxiety or useless self-doubt here. It’s a beautiful place to be and I’ve come to depend on it. Purpose frames all things positively. Every difficulty is an opportunity to become stronger, all downtime is rebranded as rest periods, income is sponsorship, and friends and family are my support team. The greatest fear attached to injury and immobility is to lose that purpose, that optimistic tint to the world. Without it I fear I will turn on myself.

Caught up in the focus of preparation, then the high of competition - the comedown of normality is embarrassing. Months on from the ride and the reality of what this experience has cost me is apparent. The effort and the exhaustion has triggered a series of pending injuries - a bulging mass of scar tissue on my knee, persistent hamstring tendonitis, a back riddled with knots and hips that won’t bend. All of which has made cycling unbearable at any intensity and the pain refuses to dissipate despite rest, physio and a string of alternative therapies. I’ve become distanced from the sport I love and the people in it. The isolation plays games with my perspective whilst the pendulum of motivation and confidence continually sways.

Cycling is the barrier between myself and my destructive perfectionism. I continually need a project to focus on and refine – it hypnotises and medicates my busy mind. Drip-fed on exhaustion, suspended in a state of survival, there’s no energy for anxiety or useless self-doubt here. It’s a beautiful place to be and I’ve come to depend on it. Purpose frames all things positively. Every difficulty is an opportunity to become stronger, all downtime is rebranded as rest periods, income is sponsorship, and friends and family are my support team. The greatest fear attached to injury and immobility is to lose that purpose, that optimistic tint to the world. Without it I fear I will turn on myself.