Planning Your Route

A long way to go but I know where I'm going!

We all know that mixture of feelings we get when we reach a destination.

If the journey was extra tough or very long there is a sense of achievement when we finally make it to the end, but the feeling is often muted with a question of 'what next?'

Knowing that and knowing anywhere we aim for is unlikely to be our final destination, we could easily drift along with no plan at all. Except we often wouldn't get out of the door, let alone travel any distance, if we had no idea where we were going.

So, to motivate us to do anything, we need to have an end in mind. That can be literally a point on a map, or it can be a familiar route or known distance done in a certain time. A measurable goal like that is certainly easier to record and set against past and future achievements.

So now we have a goal and a way of measuring whether we achieve it.

Our bigger goal might be to get fit enough to take on a bigger challenge in the future, and that's measurable, too. If we have a date for that big challenge, we also have a time scale.

So now we have a big goal, a specific time to achieve it by and a smaller goal that's a step along the way.

And we have a route map (literally) to get us to that first goal, too.

Is this starting to sound familiar?

Our big goal is now specific, measurable, attainable, realistic and timed. It's SMART. And smart goals get results.

Goal-setting. It seems to be a lot easier to set and attain a goal for a physical challenge than it is for a life achievement, but the principle's exactly the same.

Roy

You Don't Need Matching Jerseys

... to be a team, as you can see from this team picture taken in Keswick, on our coast to coast trip in September.

By the time we assembled at Carlisle, we had already done a few hundred miles between us, by various means. John C and I had cycled from North Shields after driving up from Suffolk, John H had taken a couple of trains from somewhere in the Cotswolds and JR had taken the train from Nottingham, via Newcastle.

Staff at the Travelodge in Carlisle were friendly and very obliging about bike storage overnight and we did some team bonding over a Mexican meal near the station.

Next day we rode about 80 miles to Keswick, via Workington, and we were already a team.

The best test of a team's cohesion is when things go wrong or tempers are tested, so it might be a pity that we're all so even tempered and get on so well. We didn't even have a puncture to deal with. The nearest we got to being grumpy with each other was when the pre-lunch stretch to Workington turned out to be longer than anticipated and our blood sugar levels dipped.

We mostly stayed together on the flat stetches. And while we all climbed at our different speeds (because you can't really help each other at those slower speeds) the top of every hill was a reunion of sorts, where every word was an encouraging one and every greeting came with a smile.

And the end of each day was another little triumph, a social occasion and a time to share stories of that day and other days - even when we couldn't get a proper meal on Saturday night!

So, while we all face a unique and almost solitary challenge on every climb, being part of the team makes it doubly worthwhile. That, and the promise that, with the team's support, we can take on even bigger challenges in the future.

That's the point, really. Challenging yourself is one thing, but you can do so much more as a team.

Next year, The Alps.

Roy

First Lesson:

It won't always be easy ...

First lesson is ... get on your bike.

A couple of years ago I was training for the Great North Run when I got a call from my brother in law. He was in a predicament. Along with three friends, John was planning to cycle the length of the Pyrenees, and their support driver had had to pull out.

'LeKnees' was at risk.

'Could I possibly help?'

I suppose ...

It was the journey of a lifetime for me. After sharing the driving duties down to Hendaye, on the French-Spanish border, I supported the team for the first half of their two-week trip towards the Mediterranean. (The scenery was fantastic.)

Between driving duties (and eating and drinking duties) I tried to keep up my own training. But the best day of my week in the Pyrenees was the one where I took the spare bike and joined the boys on a ride to the Cirque du Gavarnie. It was an easy day for them but it was the highest I had ever cycled and I loved being a part of it.

All week I envied them the steepest hills and toughest climbs, even as I marvelled at their ability to get up them. I was thrilled for them at the top of every col, and I told them I'd be there again next time.

But next time they'll need a new driver, because I'll be on my bike.

Which is why John and I did the coast to coast (Whitehaven to Sunderland) last year, and why two of the other team members joined us when we did the trip in both directions this September. Lots of lovely hills and a great team spirit. And the more we rode, the stronger we got.

Next year we'll take on The Alps.

By getting on the bike I wasn't a spectator any more. By joining the team I became a doer, not a watcher; a participant not a spectator. You could almost say I became a winner not an also ran.

Get on your bike, literally or metaphorically, and you start to take part - in cycling or in life.

And the more you ride, the more you take part, the better at riding, and taking part, you become.

Ride harder today - be stronger tomorrow.

Roy

PS I did the Great North Run, too, even if it was my slowest half-marathon ever.