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This post contains some reflections on a Malin to Mizen cycle I completed recently with some friends. For more information and details about the trip, then read Part 1 here.
Expectations vs reality
What was I expecting? A lot of cycling, anyway. Not overly tough – we’d get there in good time each day, but wouldn’t have to break ourselves in the process. Sharp 7am starts. Three meals a day. Quiet evenings, some recovery and relaxation. Chat about the day. The odd pint or two. Someone might even have a pack of cards.
What did we get? A lot of cycling. Like, a lot. Very tough at times – some serious athletes in the pack here. We got there in good time each day alright - mainly ‘cos we cycled at over 30kph for a lot of it. Busy evenings – always something to do: load the van, eat, check-in, fix bikes, stretch, eat, shopping for supplies, swim, naps, meet friends, pints, eat, sleep, stretch, eat, check out, load the van, check the bikes, a quick snack, cycle – rolls off the tongue that routine. Very little room to think, really. Very little alone time – though I didn’t miss it while we were in the midst of our journey. Plenty of pints when the time called for it, and not a single pack of cards was produced at any stage (thank God).
The trip was a great balance between Cycling as a Sport, Cycling as Travel. We pushed ourselves each day but were able to enjoy the places we passed through and rested each night. It’s nice to have a good activity to sink your roots into the earth of the places you visit, instead of just passively taking photos, or queuing for and buying shit.
Much effort and care went into our ‘job’ – the cycle – and thus each night we felt like we’d earned our right to be there, we had purpose and things to do, and although our visits were fleeting we had a role and each destination became part of us – this is the real meaning of giving back to the community: you give back a part of your soul through intentional work, and sharing the results - yourself - with the world.
The intensity of the purposeful action and physical exertion, balanced with the freedom of travel and enjoyment of life.
The rigid pursuit of order and perfection in attaining a pre-determined goal as best you can, with all the imperfect and beautiful things that happen in between.
Work hard by day, play hard by night
Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on the next kilometre and the whole 800.
Eventually you come to see what life is all about, in microscopic form, a week representing the entirety of existence, played out over and over again, the turning of a wheel, the flicker of a million spokes.
Travelling in a group
I’d be more used to doing trips like this on my own. Though what made this one so great was that we did it as a group, a team, a band of brothers. On my own cycles or road trips I’d always let myself stop for whatever I feel necessary or catches my attention – toilet breaks or photo ops or a bit of stretching or checking the route or just admiring the view. All worthy pursuits but while sometimes it’s important to go your own way and do exactly what you feel, sometimes it’s important to shape up and bend yourself to the timing and plans of the wider group or society.
Both are vital to a healthy life and development and appropriate growth as a human. In contrast to many of my travel experiences or physical adventures this trip was all about teamwork and everyone pulling together. Routes were planned in advance including stops and their duration. Cycling pace in groups was according to a pre-determined pace rather than the slowest or fastest. Adapt to the group. Tasks like bookings, bills, leaving, arriving, van hire, check-ins, check-outs, buying rounds, driving, packing, cleaning, getting lunch, filling water, parking, taking photos, and handing out penny sweets and Jaffa Cakes were taken on by everyone with relish.
There was no man left behind, but no-one was let get ahead of themselves either - if you thought you were flying it some day you’d be taken down a peg or two by a pack of lads if the bike hadn’t humbled you already. We’re all in this together.
It was interesting watching group dynamics unfold over the week even among tight friends. Some people just loving being in charge of the BBQ or putting up the tent. I usually prefer to step aside and let them at it though in a tight group like this it’s important to get stuck in regularly – at some point you will be called upon to exert some measure of leadership. I suppose I learned over the week I could work on my time keeping, but then I haven’t missed a ferry yet either.
This was a serious athletic endeavour though and so it brought out all the manly competitiveness in all of us, for better or worse – though by far and away mostly for the better. By Day 3 you could smell the testosterone in the van, and it was interesting watching group hierarchies establish and egos and attempts at dominance and leadership being displayed. Not in an aggressive or nefarious way, just how nature exerts itself in all things. I write this here only because it came up in individual conversation with every lad in the group at some stage – it was interesting to see that everyone had their own personal awareness and understanding of such things. Everyone is or has become their own philosopher in their own way. How we engage with stress – which is what all this comes down to, our fight or flight response in the face of a challenging physical, mental and spiritual journey – how we cope with it, and how we handle it, it all came to the fore here at different times for different people. It’s important stuff, and a trip like this is an incredible way for a group of friends to really bring to light these kind of things - and most importantly, deal with them - in a healthy way.
Great to see how far we’ve all evolved in the decade or more since most of us were in college together – a lot of self-awareness present. This was a massive exercise in travel too at the end of the day, with a great balance between the athletic performance of completing an event like a marathon or a triathlon, with as much of the free-spirited adventure, the cultural exposure and the novelty of any travel experience or trip I’ve ever been on.
We saw much of the greatest that Ireland has to offer not just in scenery and the immeasurable number of beautiful towns and villages we passed through, but also in the generosity, kindness, friendliness, charity and wit of strangers in our own land.
Jambons are the new EPO
Oh, the food. There was big talk of nutrition in the days leading up to the cycle – of carb loading and protein intake and the avoidance of trans fats. Of what the best snacks were to keep you going and how many calories you’d need to force down your throat each day just to have enough fuel to complete the cycle.
To begin the story at the end, the average weight put on by our group over the week was 2kg. Carb loading was the order of the day, as well as calorie loading and then protein loading for recovery and muscle growth. Burger loading for taste and pint loading for craic.
To be honest, I’ve a feeling that part of a proper testosterone-fuelled and producing lads’ holiday is that eating becomes a vocational luxury, an indulgent activity and a competitive sport all in one. We have to admit we all ate too much, and it’s probably not good for you, and I’d be sceptical about the nutritional value of the whole thing, but sure hey – we’re on holiday.
At every break we’d crowd around the van as if queuing for a soup kitchen after a war.
Jaffa Cakes were our supreme currency as cigarettes are to the inmate, though we’ll all be delighted if we never see another Haribo, Starmix, rice cake (chocolate or yoghurt-covered), trail mix, almond, cashew, drumstick, M&M, cereal bars, protein bars, the classic chocolate bar, biscuits, cookie, milkshakes, flat whites, croissants, bagels, cakes and pastries mineral supplements, energy gels and of course, the mysterious yet highly effective tub of ‘pink shtuff’ – one scoop of that in your water bottle and you’re good to go for the next 100km – I’d say it’s legal in well over 50 countries!
Doesn’t matter what it is – get it into ya and get it down ya. Fish and chips for lunch five pints and a burger for dinner. Men vs food with only one winner. Hurling for Limerick and eating for Mississippi. Sure you’ll burn it off, if not this week then definitely before you’re married.
We were like pigs in a china shop, and we’d have eaten the scratchings and all.
I won’t drink another Lucozade this year or eat another penny sweet, though I might check into a nice Super Valu for a fancy dinner now and again.
God bless the eatin’.
Burn the maps
As I said they’re experienced and stylish lads, all kitted out in the finest of gear, which these days includes gadgetry: watches, apps and even on-board computers.
I’m not above or ignorant of such things: when I started running for many years the only thing that got me out the door were my earphones and ‘the app’. I got so attached to music as a motivator and beating my own PB’s that I felt like a run was wasted if it wasn’t recorded or soundtracked.
Here though, I didn’t have a watch. Nor did I bother recording all the times and stops and starts along the way – I left it to the others. Not that I didn’t benefit from knowing the distances, speeds, paces, etc – to be honest the whole thing would have been nearly impossible without them, or at least it would have taken a lot longer.
At one point though we were passing through Knockmore, Co. Mayo – I was excited to be on home territory, to be able to lead the way and to be mentally prepared for the day’s cycling as I know the roads so well – this particular one I’d cycled during the blessed heatwave not a month before this trip. There was some confusion though as half the group called us to a halt from the rear as we powered through the crossroads of the barely-a-village that’s the home of the reigning Mayo senior football champions. Some lads were quite adamant that the Garmin was directing us to go left.
This was The Route.
I knew that the road straight to Pontoon had the most wonderful views over Lough Conn and Nephin, barely a kilometre ahead. I knew this because I’d cycled it a month before, if even. To deviate from The Route would be to mess up the day’s cycling in the minds of the more orderly, statistically-minded and competitive of the group. We wanted to stick to the route so we’d know how far we’d come, how far to go and our relative pace etc.
Yeah… but…
you want to see this view, is what you want.
A mild battle between the forces of chaos and order ensued on the side of the road, but thankfully chaos – and nature, the desire for beauty over perfection, and humane common sense – prevailed.
We followed the obvious and wonderful road.
I know the benefits of the apps, and the addiction to *knowing* all the facts of your exercise regime. But I’ve also learned when it’s time to out all those things away, to recognise them for the addictions they are: an addiction to knowledge. An attempt to record and measure and control everything in your life. An immature tendency to try to control the world through ordering it into knowledge. There is a time and place for it, but life is a balance between thinking and doing, between rationality and intuition, between measuring and living.
Although providing amusement and comfort, this trip will not be remembered for how fast we did it, but for the fact that we did it at all. I understand why you’d want to record your progress – taking photos and even writing this now are forms of recording, of course – though from this point on a phrase kept repeating in my mind any time there was a question of whether to follow heart or tech:
“Burn the maps”
A journey through space and time, together
I write a lot about the transformative effect of the intensive exposure to novelty that travel presents you with: to travel is to face into chaos and see what parts of you can stand up to it. In passing through so much geographical space in such a short length of time (unnatural, really), you rip a hole of sorts in space-time and it is through this 4 dimensional gap the 5 dimensional self is allowed to grow. Usually I’ve experienced this alone – doing this with such a group of friends old and new was something I hadn’t done in a long time. You could see the effect it had on us all individually and as a group.
Something I wasn’t prepared for was how close I would get to everyone on the trip – despite the fact that most have been close friends for a long, long time. It came from everyone coming together to do a job and then putting their all into each day of it. I thought it’d be a rather relaxed cycling trip – I was wrong. Intense day of cycling followed intense day of cycling, and it was impossible not to get carried away by the masculine energy being literally pumped through our legs for hours every day, everyone at once wanting to contribute and outdo each other. Compared to our younger days where we roamed the streets of Castletroy as one solid unit, you could see more distinctly how each man has grown into his own person, the trip revealing the differences in character, though the seemingly contradictory truth of life is that we’re all still the same in so many ways.
We all had our go leading the charge both in the saddle and out, everyone excelling at their own strengths, bringing their own interests and ideas and suggestions to the fore, and supporting others as they did the same. There were words had at times but there were words offered too, and all that’s remembered are the smiles, the laughs, the running jokes and the serious feats of cycling as we all dug deep and pushed through the week, growing stronger in ourselves and as a unit as we forced our way through space and time, together.
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