The 10th anniversary of cycling up some big mountains in France has made me think about resilience

The lake @ the top of Alpe d'Huez

This is when the mourning starts. The Tour de France is over for another year and I can’t watch it for hours at a time, reminiscing about when I rode up some of those mountains myself.

It’s 10 years since that ride and also 10 years since I gave up alcohol – and I still can’t quite believe that I actually did it. The ride I mean – giving up booze was the easy part.

I was asked to join a friend and then she had to bail because of a knee injury. Something in me did not want to bail when I had the chance. Mentally, I had already committed to it you see – there was no backing out.

It was a total of 320km over 3 days, , and included 6 pretty tough mountains to get over. I wrote a bit about why I was doing it back then and why I was driven to achieve such an incredible goal. Of course, the more time I spend looking back on it, the more incredible it actually was. To be fair, it was without doubt the hardest thing I ever did.

I learned a bit about myself doing that ride. When you are cycling up 25km of mountain road with altitudes of up to 2600m – some 1st, 2nd and HC climbs (for the non-cyclists amongst us – HC stands for Hors Categorie – Beyond Categorisation! – They big ones!) you have a lot of time to focus on mental strength.

I told myself that getting off my bike wasn’t an option. I did get off once – just to see if it would be better and easier. Getting off on a steep gradient of 11% is NOT easier. Take it from me. How I kept going I will still never really know. At times it was reading messages of support that would occasionally pop into my phone. It was thinking of the money people spent sponsoring me, it was thinking of my best mate’s mum dying of cancer, regardless of how many kilometres I cycled. Basically it was thinking about anything other than giving up.

It was also about not caring. I genuinely didn’t care that other people were passing me. I didn’t care that one man at 75 years of age passed me on one of my worst days. I wished him “bonne journ√©e” and stayed focused on my own challenge. It didn’t matter to me what was going on around me. I was in a group of 34 other cyclists and some of them were absolute champions. Some of them ascended Alpe d’Huez in just over 20 minutes. I lost count of how long it took me.

The lake at the top of Alpe d’Huez

The things that brought me extreme joy on those incredibly tough days were things like seeing Mont Blanc from the descent of the Col des Saisies en route to the Col des Aravis. The massive and rewarding descent off of the Col de Madeleine after a bloody tough ascent; sheep on the road that we had to navigate around, the sense of camaraderie between everyone on that ride, being helped up Alpe d’Huez by a bunch of other riders – all doing it together when I am fairly sure they could have done it faster without me dragging them behind, the friendships I have made, and the absolute sheer exhilarating experience of it. I look back now and am so proud of my achievements. It was worth all of that self-talk to take this experience away as mine.

As well as the joys – there were some utterly awful experiences too: I usually came in last on most stages – one day having spent 11 hours on the bike because I got lost going into the evening’s hotel; the cold, the rubbish food (as a coeliac) and gels, the frozen hands, the wet cycling kit…the list goes on. Then to top it all off, getting news about Rose dying as I was cycling up Alpe d’Huez. I stopped briefly for a cry then got back on my bike and kept going.

I had never thought of myself as resilient until then. Much like the Inner Critic, there is a voice in my head which tells me to keep going. I had plenty of opportunity to listen to the Inner Critic – because, make no mistake – it was having a field day about how rubbish I was, how unfit I was, how old I was… and yet – during this time I chose to listen to the one that told me it was only another 23km to go or, it was only 4 more hours on the bike, or I’m 44 and apart from the 75 year old man, I was kinda up there in age! I told myself out of the 34 people on that ride, only 3 of us were women – and that also helped. Those women were at least 20 years younger than me, and whilst I couldn’t quite keep up with them, I was still a girl – doing it for the girls!

Resilience is about how quickly we can recover to be able to front up again and again. On an endurance ride like that one, I had to give myself small goals to enable me to achieve the big ones. I had to countdown, I had to envisage getting to the end of that monumental climb having achieved that incredible feat. When I fast-forwarded that image into my head, I felt able to cope.

Sometimes we need a REALLY good reason to achieve our goals and sometimes we just need to know that “This too shall pass” and that the discomfort or pain or hurt, anger, whatever – will soon be ended. We will not only be back to our prior state, but we might just be richer for it.

It certainly holds some weight when I’m watching Le Tour!

Resilience is another way we can be kind and compassionate to ourselves.

That old inner critic called love….

I’m very familiar with the Inner Critic. My dear friend Karin Peeters has talked about the inner critic ever since I’ve known her – over ten years. Until recently – like very recently….OK Thursday, I honestly thought I didn’t really have one anymore, so well hidden she was. In a brilliant coaching session from the wonderful Heather Parker yesterday, I realised that my internal wanderings and challenges of not being good enough, consistently pushing myself to earn more, be more, do more – just might be my inner critic! (mind blown…) Well I’ll be! It fascinates me, that old adage about the cobbler having no shoes…..but boy is it real! I talk to people all the time about being kind and compassionate to themselves. And whilst I do practice that myself, I seem to have not quite nailed this one.

In my meditation this morning I decided that my Inner Critic and I will be friends from now on. This idea was planted in my head by Nishe Patel, who even has an identity for hers (a bright green fluffy crocodile no less!). I haven’t yet fully imagined mine, but I really want her to be uber cool. A cross between Kate Bush, Michelle Obama and Tina Turner. It might be the flowing robes, mini skirts, power suits….??

I write this because I want my clients to know that we are all works in progress. I want to normalise what we think of as being wrong or confused or unclear or foggy or as I used to say FITH (F***ed in the Head). I’m not FITH. I’m my own version of kooky normal. By being kind and compassionate to myself, I can start to listen to, hear and understand what this very uber cool chick is telling me. We can be mates, she can challenge me, but she no longer has the¬† power to criticise me or put me down.

I often wonder why it can take us a long time sometimes to see what is obvious – or obvious to others. I knew I had an inner critic but I thought her only focus was body image! She was REAL busy there for a while. I obviously missed a few other messages she had in mind for me.

As Karin and Nishe say, the work we do on our inner critic can change the way we think of ourselves. If we sit with them and befriend them and make some sense of why they are being so vocal, then bringing it into our conscious mind can help resolve the angst. Being kind and compassionate with myself looks like telling myself it will be OK; that I do have this, that whatever I am doing or being in that moment is enough. When I have the resources within, action will take place. When it’s needed.

This is what I mean by being kind and compassionate to ourselves.

 

It’s one of THOSE days….

I hear this a lot. Today is one of THOSE days. But not one of THOSE days. Today is not a day I dread – because I woke up. My feet hit the ground, the sun is actually shining and I am already blessed. It’s not one of THOSE days where things go wrong. I don’t tend to have those, I refuse to believe in them.

No, this is one of those days where I move around a bit, looking at the things I have to do, get sidetracked by other things, do them, come back, look at what I had to do and then go do something else.

Instead of being cross with myself for wandering aimlessly between jobs, I just said out loud – “Oh, this is one of THOSE days”. I let myself off the hook. I kindly and compassionately told myself it’s OK. Those days come to help me be mindful. To breathe, to take things in my stride and to alert me to things that are happening around me. To be grateful that I get to do exactly this.

I’ve already been visited by the neighbour’s cat, a few squirrels and the sun – so this is a great day. Whenever the moving from one thing to another takes away my focus, I have decided today to let that be my focus. So I sat and wrote about it. I could have chosen to be frustrated because I wasn’t achieving anything today. Instead, I choose to take all the gifts presented to me and be mindful of them today. Because this is what I mean by being kind and compassionate to ourselves.

 

#thebridgetoyet

the traveller not the cartographer

One of the joys of being funemployed is the learning. ¬†I have learned how to be a systemic team coach, I have learned how to assess people in a number of different ways via some cool psychometrics; I’ve read plenty of very cool books. (Thank you¬†Dave Graham¬†for the latest eye-opening, life changing one.)

Another joy is clearing out old shiz! I’m not a hoarder except when it comes to note books. Stuff with my musings, old work notebooks of lists and meeting notes; great ideas; every imaginable quote, model and teaching on leadership…

I found one today that I wanted to share. It started out as one of those notes to a younger self things which I would not normally do, but was prompted by a relative’s 21st birthday. The more I look at it and the more I talk about Leadership, the more I realise it is about humanity. Something on LinkedIn¬†caught my eye yesterday, (because I have also been saying this for a while.) Excellent leadership is about being the best human we can be. We may have lost sight of that a little lately. So here is my manifesto.

  1. Be brave enough to truly know yourself. Be brave enough to ask yourself tough questions and really listen to the answers
  2. Love yourself. Love your imperfections. NO-ONE ELSE SEES THEM!
  3. Listen to the anger that goes on in you. Find out why
  4. Ask yourself what you want your legacy to be. How do you want to be remembered?
  5. Check-in with yourself: Am I happy, kind? Am I doing what I want? Am I being who I want to be? or am I just going along?
  6. Take time to BE and to explore and to do the things you love
  7. Be a contributor to family, friends, community, causes
  8. Challenge. Question. Say no. Say YES! Play. Have fun regardless of how old you are.
  9. Remember the little girl or boy in you, because they never leave you
  10. Be grateful and kind and gentle. There isn’t always a need to fight everything/everyone, or chase everything/everyone
  11. Be you! Listen to you. It doesn’t matter what you “DO” for a living, it matters what kind of soul you have
  12. Simplify the confusing stuff – break it down. Listen to your heart and your gut. Intuition is underrated
  13. Know you are beautiful. Know you are talented. Know you are unique and know you are loved for all that you are
  14. Don’t strive to make people happy at a cost to yourself. That’s not your job
  15. Feel ALL the feels. Emotional intelligence has more credence than intellectual intelligence
  16. Travel. Eat amazing food. Learn new things – music, another language. Be shocked. Be shocking! BREAK THE RULES
  17. Be whoever you truly are. Know who you truly are. Respect who you truly are
  18. Hold tight to the belief that you are wonderful
  19. Approach difference with curiosity
  20. Have empathy and compassion in your life. For everyone. All the time

There are many more I am sure, so if you have them and would like to add to the manifesto, I welcome your thoughts.

“I am the traveller, not the cartographer”.¬† Nothing here is new, I didn’t make the map I’m just on the journey.