Last summer, I was riding around Stanley Park with a few friends and as we approached the climb to Prospect Point, I started hyperventilating, experiencing anxiety. The climb is maybe 1.2km and 4% average grade, so itās a pretty chill little incline that I typically barely count as a hill. I realized that day that it was not the first time it happened since my nerve injury, but it was the first time I felt safe to admit what was going on.
I quietly told my friends that I have been getting minor panic attacks when approaching hills since getting back on the bike post injury.
It took a while to realize what was happening, and really hard to admit since I love climbing. I had been so focused on trying to get back to my pre injured self that I somehow missed the warning signs... Saying it out loud, in a safe environment, helped a lot.
My ego was getting in my way of progress, trying to do what I used to before getting injured.
I lowered my riding amount for the rest of the summer and fall, keeping it as ~60 min rides 2-3 per week and because my physio wanted some impact on the nerve, I designed myself a little simple return to run program.
Fast forward to now, and I am still slowly recovering - My progress is not nearly as fast as I would like it to be. Cognitively, I know that nerves take a very long time to regenerate and heal. I also know that progress is not linear. I tell other people that on a daily basis, but of course, it is always harder to take your own advice.
It has been 13 months, and while my right leg is a lot better, I lost a lot of muscle mass and strength on that side, and it tends to seize regularly, which isnāt fun at all (and interestingly, not during activity).
I have been gradually increasing my riding duration and frequency, and while I am feeling a lot better overall, there is still a bit of anxiety underneath the surface. I am still worried about my leg and I want to avoid a setback.
On Sunday, I found myself feeling anxious about going out for a ride. I planned on riding BPās that day for the second time that week (Itās a hilly neighborhood, and on average, my rides there are 40-55km with 600-900m elevation), but the thought of it filled me with anxiety, even though itās my favorite place to ride in Vancouver and my leg felt fine. As a result, I decided not to ride at all that day.
As the day went on, I realized how silly that all of nothing approach is. It was my ego that was getting in the way of progress again. I was worried I will be slower than I wanted to be, which I realize is ridiculous in the grand scheme of thingsā¦ But feelings are not always logical and itās okay to feel the feels, as long as you can let them go and move forward.
Donāt let ego get in the way of progress was on my mind the entire day on Sunday, so I went riding that afternoon anyways. I rode a different route than planned, one with less elevation, and took it easy. Guess what? I did a short aerobic ride and I was okay. My leg was okay.
Why am I sharing this online, for the whole internet to see? Because it might be helpful to someone else of course, but also because typing the words and then hitting that āpublishā button is helpful for me.
Happy (ego and anxiety free) riding!
One of the toughest things I had to learn after I quit racing was that a little ride is still totally worth doing. The narrative in my head went something like "If it's not a 40/ 60/ whatever mile - three to four hour ride, is it even worth putting kit on and going outside?"
Answer? ABSOLUTELY! But just like you, I had to agree with myself that it's okay to just go have some fun. Good job getting out there and enjoying your time. That's truly all that matters.