Positive mental attitude (or personifying your bike)

Ok, it's been a while, but then things did go a little downhill (literally) for me after Lincoln Tri. As I mentioned, I didn't particularly enjoy it. I did get that sense of achievement and satisfaction at finishing, but it wasn't the same as Woodhall. The run particularly was pretty harsh... laps up and down a canal tow path. It wasn't harsh physically, it was flat and straightforward, but mentally it was bad news! The up and down system meant often people running towards you were ahead of you, which felt crap! Also, you had to run past the finish line at the halfway point, head away from it and come back. That felt even worse! Anyway, job done, new bike time.

I'd realised I wasn't going to get a bike in time for Lincoln so I started calming the frenzied way in which I frantically searched eBay. I finally found a bike the same model as my old one, for pretty much the same price after paying for it to be couriered up from dahn sarf. 'Fab' I thought 'Crack on'. I'd missed being able to just go out on my bike when I fancied it, and as soon as I could went for an introductory mooch. I hadn't gone far when I became aware that the mudguard (to be removed anyway in due course) was chafing the tyre very slightly. 'Not good' I thought, and resolved to turn around and head home (barely two mins into the ride) to get it off. No sooner had I turned around and started back than the whole thing caught completely, bending the metal that supported the mudguard and ramming the whole thing between the forks and down onto the tyre thusly:

This obviously caused the front wheel to stop VERY abruptly, and the back lifted up, propelling me forward over the handle bars. In all honesty, as dramatic as this sounds, I remember it as more being forced to stumble forward and falling forward rather than literally being thrown into the air. It must have LOOKED pretty dramatic though, because a dog walker immediately came to my assistance, as did 3 car drivers who stopped in the middle of the road to come and see if I was ok. They may have mistaken my inert form (having chosen to take a minute to stay down and mentally check body parts before trying to move anything) as a sign of potential unconsciousness, but at this point the only thing that was hurt was my ego. I felt a proper pillock and quickly assured everyone I was fine before saying no I don't need a life I only live up the road and began to walk away quickly (with the front wheel of my bike lifted off the ground). It was only later that the damage became apparent, and then it was only superficial bruising. The main impact was on my confidence. I wasn’t happy going out on the bike now... I associated the problem with that bike specifically and pined for my stolen one. And now it was very bruised and battered, even after my housemate kindly got it serviced for free for me. I avoided going out on it, even though as soon as I got home from tipping off I found the first implement I could (a knife) to remove the offending mudguard (this made me think of Alan Rickman in Prince of Thieves... ‘I’m gonna cut your heart out with a SPOON!’). I wanted to hurt that bloody bike! Never mind a screwdriver, mutilation felt better! I started viewing it as an enemy. It didn’t like me and I didn’t like it. We tried to make sure our paths didn’t cross. On the one occasion I DID try to challenge this, I got a flat just before I got back from the ride. In true anxiety style I interpreted this as confirmation that I was ‘right’ in my feelings about the bike and it had been trying to tip me off again. I developed worries about going at any decent speed on it (kind of the point when taking part in triathlons!) to the point where when I did Beverley triathlon in August I started convincing myself on the way back from the bike route that I had a flat, and slowed down to bounce around and check it, which no doubt influenced my time. Anyway, I finally faced my anxiety about it, challenged my tendency to personify my bike (it doesn’t like me/has it in for me) and have been telling myself off for blaming my tools. It’s tempting to say my bike and I are now friends again, but that would be just going down the same route (and opening up the option of ‘falling out’ again). It’s a bike. The end.