This might sound a bit familiar or a bit sadistic depending on your point of view. But as a 90kg (~200lb) man, I take great pleasure in seeking out the toughest (i.e. steepest / longest / most gruelling) cycling climbs in whichever locality I find myself. Riding up fearsome inclines for the first time until I either: cannot continue forward momentum (thankfully rare occasions), or reach the summit. It’s a personal test that I relish, because it’s a step into the unknown and a challenge by choice.
With each stroke of the pedal I get closer to the summit, but in doing so, I’m further from my starting point (usually home / car) and safety zone. When I cycling solo in this way I relate to the stretch zone of the Yerkes-Dodson Law, often applied as the ‘Comfort-Stretch-Panic’ model in military adventurous training circles.
Adapted from Yerkes-Dodson Law (1908)
The Law / model relies on the supposition that in order to learn and grow we all need to step outside our respective comfort zones and experience life in a state of ‘stretch’. The more we stretch, the more we grow. In doing so the greater our comfort zones become and the so the possibility of entering the strain and panic zones are diminished. Think back to your most recent experience of a time that challenged you… maybe you started a new position at work, took on additional responsibilities, had a public speaking engagement, became a new parent, carer… [insert heightened anxiety / stress level scenario here!]… Whether such opportunities came as a (welcome / unwelcome) surprise or they were actively sought out, your stretch zone is distinct and wholly different to where you exist in comfort. To take the cycling analogy, I would have been far more comfortable had I opted to not set my alarm for 05:15 (an occupational hazard of being a father to a young family and a promise to my wife to be out and back in time to help out for mealtime!)… it would have been far easier to hit snooze, stay in bed and spend my Sunday at home with the family. However on this particular weekend, I had obtained the prerequisite permissions from Mrs Ferris, meticulously planned my car logistics, cycling route and nutrition for the next day… My chosen tour being a 70 km loop of the 1200m Le Ballon d’Alsace and 1250m Ballon Servance before attempting to tackle the formidable La Super Planche des Belles Filles (The (Super) Beach of the Beautiful Girls)… quite if the naming of the latter was meant to entice any naïve men to find a version of Velo-Valhalla at the top of this precipitous Alsace mountain road is anyone’s guess…but I knew it was not to be taken lightly, having seen the shorter version (simply ‘Le Planche de Belles Filles’) featured in the Tour de France for the last 10 years and the new ‘Super’ version, complete with 20%+ incline and part gravel summit featured in the women’s tour de France for the first time this year (2022).
Even having planned my logistics and route meticulously, I struggled to sleep for over an hour that night. But why? I wasn’t entering a race, this was not an organised event or charity ride. I was even riding alone so there wasn’t even anyone to for me to benchmark my performance against in real-time. My successes and / or failures would be mine and mine alone. The was no obligation to share the details of the ride on any sporting social media platform. My wife, infant boys and in-laws would inevitably show a vague interest in my performance at best, and not much beside asking if I had fun. So where did the nerves and pressure I was feeling come from?
I can only reconcile my feeling of trepidation as something to do with why I choose to climb. I have a feeling it’s why you climb too. Why we climb is not whether we can or we cannot succeed, it’s more that we do everything in our physical and mental power to be the best we can be on a particular (and any) given day. No excuses.
Why we climb both in the professional and the physical sense (whether cycling is your thing or not) is simply to push ourselves to achieve maximum personal growth by edging ever closer to (while ironically over time distancing the possibility of entering) a state of panic. . This is something which is fundamental not only to success, but personal resilience. For the (hopefully) infrequent times we move into the panic zone, even if we then were to regress into our comfort zone, its limits will have exponentially expanded beyond if we had never dared stepped into stretch… and so resilience is forged. As I set off in the cold early morning sun, saddling up for another venture into the unknown; a day cycling challenge with the blissfully simple goal of testing and pushing myself outside my comfort zone and into stretch. By following in the tyre tracks of my Tour de France heroes my hope was that I would be able to finish at the Super PDBF without hyperventilating and (in the most undignified manner of so many hapless amateurs) falling off their bike due to the merciless toil of the unrelenting gradient!
Why choose such hardships over the ease of staying in bed? I mean, I love being a dad and a husband, I love preparing and firing up a BBQ (in almost any weather!), taking my boys to the playground, reading stories, playing in the garden and swimming at the weekend. So should I feel guilty for doing something selfish (a topic for another post)? For me it has and always will be about a principle of challenge by choice. I believe that most people have the capacity to be able to push themselves out of their comfort zone and find stretch, be that physically, mentally, personally and/or professionally. But only some choose to do so.
With the vertiginous final 100 meters of La Super PDLBF to go and with my heart rate red lining, I felt a pang of genuine concern (by no means for the first time on that ride) that I wouldn’t be able to reach the summit without keeling off my steed through pure exertion. Through gritted teeth and muttered expletives, I thankfully made it to the top before immediately unclipping my pedals, dropping my bike on the grass and tossing my abused body to the floor; prostrate, hyperventilating (but oh so relieved!) for the next two minutes. Deep down I knew that should I have failed to reach the summit without stopping, I would have needed to return as soon as possible (possibly immediately to the foot of the climb) to go again and attempt to put my demons to bed. Whether it be a public speaking event, client assignment or athletic pursuit, I am always the same in my harsh but fair outlook of myself and of others: ‘you are only as good as your last performance’… That’s why I climb. SJF
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