I Didnt Let Regret In

Photo by Richard Hill - ShutterWorksPhotography

By my early teens I was well over six foot, but I didn’t feel tall. Confidence and strength came much later and a recent walk along the river in Marlow sparked a memory of where and when.

After taking up running when I was 18, I soon realised that speed sessions were the critical part of training to run faster. My go to session become kilometre reps off-road along this stretch of river. The winter boggy ground and ill weather soon toughened me up as I ploughed through these twice weekly sessions. My coach would set 10 x 1km as the goal but I always added more, 15 or 20 reps became the norm and throughout the early noughties progression was swift with power, results and more importantly, confidence quickly followed. This manifested into a mental strength that would turn a timid beanpole into a happier, healthier person.

Always wanting to do more or change the normal set intervals, I devised a favourite session; It started with a flat out 30 minute effort in one direction along the towpath. At 30 minutes I would turn around and try and get back to the start quicker, I.E. under 30 minutes. In fact I would declare the session null and void if it took me longer than 30 minutes to get back. Yet each week I would try and make that turn around point further and further out, making the first 30 minutes so hard, but knowing the return HAD to be even quicker. A savage session.

But hard training took its toll on my limbs and joints - by the end of that decade I was spending more time at injury clinics rather than training. My time running was over. I didn’t dwell on my failures or ever question decisions I’d made and I feel very lucky twenty years later to be still training and racing, albeit in a different sport. The need to alter training schedules is still something I seem to do and that recent walk down memory lane during lockdown sparked an interest in creating a mad session.

The FTP test is a standard in cycling. How many watts can you endure for one hour. But for some odd reason the 20 minute test is the norm with the result in watts multiplied by 0.95 to estimate your hour figure. I.E. if you can push 250 watts for 20 minutes your perceived hour result would be 250 x 0.95 =237.5 watts.This seems such a short cut to me. I mean riding 250 for 20 minutes is so much easier than 237.5 for one hour. Incensed by this, I double down and set the task of seeing how many watts I can do in two hours! However, rather than controlling the output myself, being able to build and then kick hard towards the end, I use the ‘ergo’ mode on the indoor bike which sets the output. So if it is set at 200watts, whatever your cadence, you will be outputing the same wattage throughout. This is so much harder as from the first minute you are locked into a super hard pace.

Over the course of a few weeks I try this three times, firstly at 250 watts, then 270 watts and finally at 280 watts. The last one being so tough (I’m 51 don’t forget not 25 anymore!) I call it a day on trying any higher than 280 watts.

A few months go by and my family and I are faced with my father’s failing health due to motor neurone disease. We brace ourselves for the inevitable and sadly he died on the 26th August 2021.

Robert William Simpson 1932-2021

A week later I needed to channel my emotions and decided to have another go at my two hour session.
I was aiming high - I would try and attempt 300 watts for two hours.

From the off I instantly knew I may not be able to sustain the output. The first 5 minutes seemed to last an age as I kept the cadence up high around 95. Over the course of the first half hour, I relax into it and the high 95 cadence seems to work ok and I try to talk myself into this for the long haul.

After 30 minutes I started to struggle to maintain this high cadence. However as soon as I eased down to 85 the pressure needed to maintain 300 watts really put a strain on my legs. Way under halfway and I’m thinking this is going to be a failure. I would manage the hour ok, maybe 75 minutes but I think the two hour mark will be beyond me. At 75 minutes I am all over the bike and in trouble. The knowledge that I could instantly stop and the pain would ease is so inviting. So I aim for 90 minutes as the finish. I just need to summon all I can to get there.

1 hour 29 minute done and the strain seems interminable as I prepare to stop. However finishing on a fail would really bug me. This has been so, so tough, I do not want to go through this again. I think of those killer session I did in my twenties, I think of my Dad, I try and relax through the intensity. I will carry on! I will finish, fall off or black out but I will not consciously stop.

Half an hour later I am slumped in a chair in the garage, in a new level of exhaustion even after all these years of pushing it. I will remain there for some time. I am pleased and actually surprised that I completed the 300 watt target. Two very intense hours.

With that out of the way, and I have vowed never to attempt it again, I can now concentrate on the upcoming cyclocross season. My first race in 20 months is on a dry and bumpy flat circuit at Silverstone’s 4x4 area. So I try psych myself up on the start line to prepare for the onslaught on the body that a cyclocross race is.

Photo below from https://www.bluesharkimages.com/

Go, go, go and we’re off. As I try and pull away from the field, my Dad is obviously in my thoughts. With the knowledge of the successful 300 watt for two hours session, the mental and physical strength is there and it feels so good to be back racing again. My only mishap is a collision with a lapped rider, which sends me cracking to the ground. Quickly up all is fine except one of my brake shifters is out of position. With the bumpy, twisty nature of the course it’s difficult to whack it back, so I continue with it at an odd angle.

30 minutes later and the finish line is just a couple of corners away. I see one more lapped rider ahead and target an over-take. I change my mind as I see the number on his back, 37, my Dad’s house number, where I grew up, where he died just 9 days ago. I ease up and do not overtake. I giggle at the coincidence, I'm really going to miss my Dad and I punch the air for him as I cross the line.