Reality Bites

Yesterday was one of those moments on Social media where it became apparent that my version of Reality quite seriously deviates from a lot of others. It was also a salient reminder that what gets published is never the full picture.

You need to constantly be reminded of this, especially with those who quite obviously use the platform as an advertising tool, or as means to show their friends how invested they are in their joint interests. Part of the problem for me, over time, is that my depth of obsession with a number of subjects has either drifted or ceased to exist. However, for others those feelings still remain, and it would be both churlish and unfair to prevent the enjoyment that they bring.

It’s also quite difficult to discuss the consequences of a difference in outlook without someone taking this as criticism, and that’s the bigger issue. Depending on what your piece of art (whatever it maybe) set out to do, should largely dictate the response it receives. Critical thinking asks of a reader, or viewer, or anyone participating in a group event not to just get lost in what they are given, but appoint personal relevance to the experience. That does not have to mean enjoyment.

This is where the whole fabric of Social media begins to show some basic flaws.

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280 characters is a pretty tough platform to get right first try. I ended up yesterday telling a story, getting the threading wrong (each Tweet in the right order, attached to the same header) and ended up copy/pasting the whole thing off into a work processing document before getting it right second time around. If you’re reacting instantly and don’t think your process through, the consequences should by now be quite well understood.

However, that’s not all there is to worry about. If you’re the person who is happy their mates are having fun and isn’t fussed when they flood your timeline, there is nothing to worry about. However, when you’ve had a shit day, and it’s time to not just allow people to be happy because that point needs to be made… we all know where this is going. I unfollow those who complain about Eurovision, for instance, because a) it’s a part of my timeline and b) if you don’t get it, you won’t get me.

Occasionally, these differences allow you an important insight into people’s outlooks.

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For me, all of these moments where my feelings split are carefully recalled for future reference. Occasionally however something happens (as was the case yesterday) where it’s more than simply a difference of opinion, and I think I see something that might not be there. What needs to happen then is the independent verification from others that a) I’m not insane and b) this can be interpreted in several ways. I’d like to thank therefore everybody on my timeline who made me feel that I’m not alone, and that this Reality isn’t just mine.

That matters far more than I initially realised.

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Everybody needs to recognise the reality checks when they happen. Being alone, having a difference of opinion that sets you aside from others is not a bad thing. It’s not reason to panic. It shows that, crucially, your reality is not just yours alone. Understanding why these differences occur is nearly as important as being able to accept that they have, and the whole process has potential to radically transform the way you think.

Just be careful how you react when they happen.

Tour de France

If you zoom in on that snap above, you’ll see the date on my acknowledgement is 2017. The organisers were giving out last year’s certificates at the finish. I think that’s a pretty decent metaphor for my entire experience, on reflection: slightly behind the times, and not really relevant as a result. I’d like to petition to take the word ‘fun’ out of that picture, as that was officially the only time a smile happened all day.

Let’s examine what we learnt.


I have a LONG Way to Go

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My stamina is not nearly what it ought to be. I completely failed at hydrating properly. I can’t feel the last two fingers and side of my left hand and if that’s still the case tomorrow, I will pop in and grab a Physio. There wasn’t enough work beforehand at mentally preparing myself and, as a result, I suffered. REALLY suffered. Miles 35-45 were what Hell would look and feel like for me, where I was forced to go up a series of small, innocuous hills over and again, with no chance to rest. There was also, crucially, absolutely no point at which I was enjoying myself.

A LOT has got Better

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No, REALLY, before you start telling me this is all negativity, the positives were there. The only time I stopped was to drink and eat, which with practice will happen on the bike. No hills had to be walked through, which is a quantum leap forward. My lungs are undoubtedly better, the ability to change gear and push through pain is there, and overall, considering how I feel this morning, this is undoubtedly the fittest I have ever been. Lessons have been learnt too over fuelling and sugar intake, which will go forward to Ride London on Sunday.

Essex is a Fucking Grumpy County Guv’nor AND NO MISTAKE

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BOY I’d not want to ride a bike on an Essex road at ANY time in the future. If there is one thing that has totally and utterly put me off ever doing this ride again it will be the motorists, who at no point seemed to care or be considerate of cyclists. If we aim to get the planet greener, I doubt Essex is going to take part in that, especially if yesterday’s ‘one twat per convertible’ headcount was any indicator. Special snacks have to be given to those who shouted at the organised bike riders to fuck off home, you da real MVP’s ^^

Cycling Elitism is Alive and Well

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There was a distinct gulf yesterday between the ‘turned up in casual clothes and a BMX’ crew and the hardcore, carbon fibre teams. The latter were either groups riding under an organisation’s banner (British Heart Foundation were strongly represented) or doing it for a family member. Needless to say, I didn’t see a single other Mind shirt. It was also abundantly obvious who was doing it for a decent overall time and who was there to do some good. I appreciate the fact there were people prepared to chat, but they were few and far between.


Sitting here this morning, it all feels like it was a bad dream. However, when I look at the stats, it definitely happened:

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I was going to train today, but the sensible thing for everybody is to take a day, do 36 press-ups at some point and go back to the treadmill tomorrow. I won’t massively improve my situation for Sunday in a week, but I can better plan hydration and food to cope with the distance. Having conclusively proved that carb-packing has no appreciable benefit to my system? Time to eat well and remove the sugar again until I’m actually on a bike.

Also, once the Holidays are over, it is time to see a doctor.

Find Time

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Occasionally, the Universe likes to remind you of the obvious
. If you’re not paying attention, these revelations can be ignored for decades… but occasionally, the stars align, and you are able to understand the fundamental truths of existence. This morning was one of those moments for me, but because the story that prompted it is not mine to tell but somebody else’s, I won’t go into details. I can, however, summarise the basic gist.

There will be points in other people’s lives where how you react matters far more to someone else than it does to you. It might be as simple as encouragement where none appears to be needed, or understanding of an issue that is trivial to you but means the World to the person you are communicating with. In those moments, don’t listen to yourself as the arbiter of truth. Just because something works for you, does not mean it is applicable to everybody else.

Sometimes, this is not about keeping you happy.

There’s been a lot of stress about Dentistry this week, wrapped around an experience had as a child after an adverse reaction to gas and air after tooth extractions. An eleventh-hour about-face over the wisdom of pulling certain teeth from my daughter’s mouth resulted in a long conversation yesterday with our dentist, the result of which is a complete rethink of what was planned. In the end, when I accepted without argument the wisdom of what I was being told by an expert, her surprise was both vociferous and gratefully received. There’s a sense that not many people accept what my dentist says as truth. I wonder if she was male if that would be different.

In the end, gender or authority shouldn’t sway people as to how they react to particular situations, but they inevitably do. What ought to matter more is empathy and experience. Looking past what we see someone as being, to what they really are, is tough. As I’m easily swayed by certain combinations of visual stimulus, so are others. This is not what should dictate our experiences. It’s the same mentality that told me to ‘toughen up’ as a child, that still gets thrown at me now for not being hard enough sometimes. I realised this morning that sometimes, that’s the last thing I ought to be doing.

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The only way to truly learn about yourself is to accept that sometimes, you are wrong. Today, I was and after taking the time to listen, I hope that maybe it will make a real difference to two lives going forward. This acceptance can often make it difficult to understand when you’re right, but yesterday’s events prove to me that my gut is becoming increasingly adept at understanding truth and acting upon it.

Nobody said living your life would be easy or fair, you know.

Try

As with all things, practice brings progress. That means I’m now using gears to cycle with instead of a ‘static’ bike for Zwift, and I’ve started imagining characters in my head and translating them to my sketch book. I get where everything needs to go on faces, and now need to begin to working out how I translate hairstyles, beards and accessories. How does a male face differ from a female one? How can I define androgyny?

How do I remember which gear when cycling makes it harder and then easier?

Why is my learning curve so fucking dreadful?

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Numbers are becoming very useful in helping me understand where in fitness I need to concentrate. That weighted power average would normally be up in the 120’s because up until yesterday I’ve been using a static bike setup that imagines every virtual road I ride on is flat, and adds difficulty via fixed resistance. Mr Alt and I swapped bikes last night: he picked up a Gumtree bargain before Christmas of a turbo trainer (which becomes the back wheel of the bike) which is able to simulate the ups and downs of the virtual course for you, forcing gear changes to compensate. That’s why I was at 73% intensity last night, half the time I did not have the first idea of what gear to be in. As I’ll need to learn this when I get on the road for real? There is no time like the present.

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Learning new stuff for me has always been difficult, and I am mindful at present of not being intractable. I can thrash and complain all I like but the only sure-fire way of making change is to do it. That means this morning I’ll sit and draw something other than faces for a bit, and think about how I make a diagram to stick on my handlebars to show what gear does what, so tonight’s trip up the hill is far more professional. If I give myself visual cues, things do get easier.

I suspect I have Warcraft to thank for that improvement in learning skills.

New Life

There’s been an standing joke running between myself and Mr Alt since I started using Zwift for exercise: I don’t do more than an hour at a time. As soon as the clock ticks over to 01:00:00 I stop and that’s me done. I knew the reasons behind this were sound, and last night science decided to show him with FACTS. My body is nowhere near as strong or capable as his is, and I genuinely struggle with endurance. On what I know about myself I’d expected to last about ninety minutes before legs stopped working. In the end, I made it to one hour and forty minutes before the bottom half of my body gave the finger and simply ceased to function.

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The first hour included pacing, not pushing 100% (as I normally do.) It did not matter one iota that I went up hills, because I’ve been training in fixed gear pretty much 90% of the time and the trainer I used down not automatically adjust when there’s a gradient. Resistance is my concern as a result and was only really used as way to give arse a rest from over an hour sitting down. The problem, on reflection, was that I never had anywhere to recover. Active recovery is a concept my trainer has taught me, the means by which you don’t stop after a burst of intense exercise. Having Mr Alt next to me who just pedalled through everything made me push, far more than was normally the case.

It is probably time I stopped training alone, and (more importantly) I don’t automatically assume that because I had to stop it was a failure.

These stats were a revelation, especially when Mr Alt showed me his for the same ride. He spent the entire ride in Zone 1 and 2, not really breaking a sweat, based on his own FTP (which is clearly considerably higher than mine due to his time cycling.) For me, there was no recovery time at all, hence why I finally had to stop dead. The next step in my journey is to work out how I can take the pain out of longer rides, and increase endurance/stamina. My goal of 110 miles a week is now complete: I’ll consider whether today is a rest day or not a bit later on, once I’ve got my prep work for the next seven days organised.

Once upon a time I would have gotten very nervous about using stats like this to rate my performance. Now I realise that there’s a mental disparity between ability and performance that needs to be both considered and addressed.

Station to Station

Yesterday, for twelve hours, I did something totally nonsensical to raise money for a charity very close to my heart. By the end of the day I’d made three times the amount I set out to. However, I don’t think I came anywhere close to succeeding at my task, and that’s got a lot to do with my own expectations of the World around me. The fact that if I’d webstreamed for twelve hours and had breasts exposed I’d have probably managed ten times that is neither here nor there. The fact I’d planned for weeks is largely irrelevant. What I learnt yesterday is that when all is said and done, my Twitter has irrevocably changed in the last twelve months.

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I was competing with a lot of different events and traffic yesterday, but I didn’t advertise well enough, I didn’t get the word out in the right places, and lots of people now are very loathed to give cash to random people on the Internet. Most importantly, all my subtlety and planning was completely pointless, I could have just posted Cat .gifs for 12 hours and would probably have gotten far more views. Nobody saw the stories I’d tried to tell. No-one really knew how they should react, and I got one request in the entire 12 hours. All in all, I did great on the planning, but totally failed on execution and information dissemination. If I’d have done a bike ride it would have been easier for people to ‘see’ an achievement that was worth sponsoring. The Internet is not the way to generate donations like this.

I have learnt a salutatory lesson going forward.

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However, I got to design some STONKING artwork (yes it was all fucking fantastic, thank you for saying so) and even if nobody really bought into my fantasy, I utterly loved doing it. In that regard, yesterday was an unmitigated success story. I had a fabulous time, and what nobody saw behind the screen was that I was exercising between bouts at the computer, because now I’ve learnt the value of not staying stationary for too long. Once upon a time I would have sat for hours without a thought… well, not any more.

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When all is said and done? It’s £310 that Mind would never have had to begin with. The page will stay open until Monday morning, if you now feel the urge to donate?

CLICK HERE TO GIVE MONEY

Next time I’ll be doing things differently (no breasts included), and there will be a better final total. Oh yes.

PS: THANK YOU to the twelve people who gave cash: /points YOU DA REAL MVP.