I have a cycling enemy.
Lots of people would think the enemy might be miles, but I can do miles. Some would choose speed, but I don’t fuss about speed so that’s not an issue for me.
I picture my enemy as a troll who sits at the bottom of every single hill, even the small ones, and tells me I’m going to struggle. And that’s the thing about enemies—they whisper to you and if you listen there’s this self-fulfilling cycle of worry that makes the enemy’s prediction come true.
It begins for me as soon as I see a hill in the distance. It’s as though this little troll of an enemy sits there rubbing his hands in gleeful anticipation. He knows my stomach’s beginning to churn, and instead of attacking the hill I’ll allow fear to drain my joy.
He wins—again.
I always manage to get to the top, but survival isn’t the goal. I don’t ride to get done. I want to thrive, to enjoy the ride rather than simply outlasting it.
So my goal for this cycling season is to confront the troll. I want to ride each hill instead of struggling to the summit. That doesn’t mean it’ll be easy or even that it’ll be much faster, because what we’re really talking about is an altered attitude.
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So, what’s your enemy? What’s the situation in which you cringe with worry, where the mere anticipation makes you break out in a cold sweat?
One choice is denial. I’ll just pretend the hills really don’t bother me that much. Works for a while, as long as you don’t mind waking up at 3 am with the image of that little troll guy laughing at you.
Or you might try avoiding hills. Just choose your routes carefully, and maybe you’ll never have to confront a hill. Except, of course, every path eventually includes some tough hills; it might be good to train for them.
The sensible option involves confronting the enemy, facing the fear, and leaning into the challenge. The little troll guy’s a coward filled with lies and excuses. He’ll hang on for a while, but he’s no match for courage and perseverance.
Where does your enemy wait for you?
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