Balancing Act

I love sport. It’s a great leveller. There are hundreds of us, from all walks of life, who grab some escapism from the usual rigmarole and decide there’s no better way to pass a weekend than to set an alarm for an ungodly time in the morning, sneak out while it’s still dark, travel to an obscure location and take on physical sufferance in the name of endurance sport in its various forms.

Fortunately, there are enough of us that converge to allow skin-tight lycra to be promoted to tolerable attire for the masses. If we’re lucky, the family and loved ones join the escapade and wait patiently for hours to cheer for a brief interval, hand out bottles and assist weary bodies out of the grubby kit they’ll help restore to their pre-race state on the return home. Afterwards, we fall back into the customary busy schedule of daily life.

While for some of us it was a concerted effort for a one-off personal challenge, many of us squeeze in habitual training regimes in preparation for the next time.

As a full-time GP and wannabe faster multisporter, I was recently asked to write about how it’s possible to maintain this sort of balancing act in pursuit of the sporting Holy Grail of a new PB or podium position. Previously, I would probably have cynically replied that it’s not really possible, but lately I’ve been proving myself wrong. This is my reflection on how I’ve reached this zen state of togetherness in body, mind, family life and after hours shifts.

Firstly, the toughest lesson I ever learned was that more miles doesn’t mean more smiles, and doesn’t necessarily equate to better performance either. I’m a stubborn sort and by saying it was a tough lesson, I actually mean it took me years. For a considerable portion of my twenties, I chased escalating volumes of aerobic training in the expectation that by replicating what a full-time athlete maintained my performance would be transformed. More sacrifice would be rewarded with better results, right? Predictably, as the inevitable stresses associated with normal life and on-call shifts accumulated alongside self-imposed physical duress and scarce recovery time, I would crash. This boom-bust training programme did little for any boom in performance and even less for my bust - literally. In retrospect, it’s obvious to see that there’s more than one factor in power to weight ratio and I was doing the former no favours.

Sure, some base training is essential but make sure you keep some perspective and if you’re going out for clocking up high volume keep it contained to a finite period for a specific goal. In technical sports science lingo, it’s called micro-cycles of periodisation. Pro athletes schedule in time to rest, whereas for amateurs scheduling in time to train is enough of a challenge.

Avoid the training trap of doing more when it’s going well, even more when it’s going badly and yet more when you’ve missed some the day before because something else got in the way. My training now consumes half the time it used to but with double the consistency the overall impact is huge. Remember, the adaptive mechanisms of human physiology need some breathing space to repair the damage done after a hard training session, so that next time it’s easier, or if you don’t want to let it feel easier at least you might be going a bit faster.

Lesson number two was that variety is the spice of multisport. I was born to ride, or at least that’s totally what I believed from the tender age of two-wheels and no stabilisers, but discovering other sports has completely refreshed my training and also enhanced my cycling performance. It all started when I was stuck in the Balkans on a tour of duty sans bicycle and confined to a 1-mile perimeter fence. Normally, most cyclists need to be cornered before even thinking about striding out in running shoes and I guess that situation provided me with the motivation I needed to even consider it. Like most newbie runners, after a period of disquiet the experience became surprisingly enjoyable and on my return home, I won a military running event with a course profile similar to an average day out in the Wellington environs - more ups and downs than a recce with the Grand Old Duke of York. Nowadays I can’t imagine limiting myself to just cycling. Apart from anything else, I just wouldn’t have as much fun.

Finally, endurance racing can be a pretty lonely affair but you can borrow a bit of strength from others to get across the line. My most significant race-head breakthrough was in 2009 - with an imminent emigration to the Southern Hemisphere on the cards, I grabbed the opportunity to fit in one last European race with the World Masters MTB Championships on French turf. A good dose of focused training, tapering and personal expense later I was sat on the start line in the Alps. Twenty minutes anon, I was holding my own for a podium position. A short time, and some bad luck, later I was hit with a mechanical, so I kept my cool, repaired the bike and overcame my first brush with misfortune to fight back to fifth place. A second strike followed and I was out of the race. It was all over that quickly.

Never one to be beaten easily, my better half decided that tattered dreams could be trounced by a last hurrah in Blighty. The only event that weekend was a twelve hour MTB race. So, we drove across Europe, got subbed an entry to a sold out event, picked up spares at the side of a highway in the home counties, unpacked, repaired the bike, repacked, and grabbed a curry then twenty winks.

I was back on a start line 48 hours after my French line-up, but this time I had done almost everything you shouldn’t do before a race. To add insult to bike injury, I’d never ridden a bike for twelve hours and my longest training ride for months prior had been less than three. Despite the odds being solidly stacked against me something unusual happened. It had nothing to do with luck, good omens, interplanetary alignment, or the enduring nature of human spirit to triumph over adversity, and everything to do with the overwhelming feeling of everyone willing me on. It was only because of others that I was even there racing and that felt really special. I must have ridden on that strength for the entirety of the race and shortly after midnight, 216 kilometres later, I won my first solo ultra-endurance event. That’s racing for you – from low to high in less than two days.
So as a fellow amateur endurance athlete trying to balance a normal life, what would I recommend? Training and racing is full of highs that’ll keep you coming back for more and lows that’ll leave you sore but, overall, success isn’t just about how fast you run, bike, or swim but how well you bounce!

About Kim:
Ex-military doc and former GB representative junior, Kim has been involved with sport for over 17 years. Starting out in mountain biking, Kim’s first passion is cycling but she also loves the challenges multisport offers. She can be found working full-time at her practice in Upper Hutt as well as mixing it up with the fast girls at mountain bike, time trial, road, and duathlon events whenever possible. You can follow her progress at www.kimhamer-hurst.blogspot.com