Covid-19 Update: A mountain biker surviving lockdown.

When Cilian Murphy awakes from his anaesthetic in 28 Days Later and, all groggy and confused, stumbles his way to the hospital main entrance, he is met with a scene not many expected to ever see in this lifetime.

Cities lying empty, streets desolate of people. Society broken, or so it seemed.

Fast forward to 2020; the year that, so far, wasn’t. Just when we thought it couldn’t get any worse (Brexit - I mean that shit just drags on, doesn’t it?), we go and get hit with a pandemic that forced all in to hiding and, some 3 months later, is still threatening our way of life.

Covid-19 has necessitated the most severe restrictions on social and physical interaction any of us are likely to have ever experienced. Living in effective house arrest (your only crime being human and susceptible to the virus) and unable to socialise with others has been an incredibly difficult undertaking.

How long will it last, no one knows; will it ever be overcome, possibly not.

Mountain biking is an inherently social activity. Of course, it doesn’t preclude social gathering; one can ride a bike without needing a group of friends to cheer him/her on from the sidelines; but the mtb community is a social one, nonetheless.

I have written before about the simple, purist joy one can find sharing a ride with friends and, as I alluded to then, riding solo is nothing new to me. Even so, Covid-Lockdown forced the issue and added in to the mix a restriction on movement, meaning not only was I to ride alone but I had a time restriction of 1 hour to boot.

I can’t get anywhere in 1 hour. A ride to my nearest hill - Bredon Hill - and back is a three hour activity. The same applies for the Cotswolds escarpment at Broadway.

I’ve been lucky enough to have stayed in work during this uncertain time so, in between my time spent as a slave (to the crown), a slave (to my son) and a volunteer slave (to my wife), I have been out looking for new and interesting stuff to ride that falls within the 1-hour prescription; I’ve been exploring.

If lockdown has given me anything, it’s a rejuvenated sense curiosity; a desire to actually follow that unknown bit of trail and see where it leads. You know, that bit you always ride past because you don’t know where it goes; because it might be shit and, let’s be honest; because you can’t be bothered.

Everyone has a few fallback routes. Regulars that they can rely on to provide a bike fix. In most cases, however, I am guessing these routes are far removed from the technically challenging stuff we all dream about - we don’t all live in the lakes. As the hashtag goes - no car, no gnar, not far.

Well, with limitations on movement, initially, lockdown has meant a greater demand on those regular routes and, very quickly, their overuse. This has, in turn, led to a growing boredom with these gravel tracks, green lanes and quiet roads. There are some short sections of bridleway I am able to link in, which provide a bit of singletrack, but this is limited and very un-technical.

So, with such restrictions in place and a growing sense of doom at being unable to ride anything more satisfying than a tow path, I have been forced to look harder and the trails around my home town have come under greater significance and need.

Maps have been scrutinised and new routes devised. All that was left was to get out and ride them.  And, I’ve found some pretty good stuff. A lot of which is all within 5-10 minutes of my house. Linking it all together as been fun and, in doing so, I’ve managed to assemble a reasonable loop lasting some 40 mins.

From permissive paths through ancient battlegrounds to elevated Beech groves and sweeping, riverside singletrack, my local trails clearly have a lot more to offer than I had appreciated.

It just goes to show that, with a little curiosity and a willingness to search them out, there are trails there for riding. Most of the those I have found are designated sections of bridleway (and footpaths, in some cases - I know, slap my wrists) that I had simply not bothered with before as they clearly went no where or didn’t link up very well on paper. However, many were also undesignated; simply worn in by use and there to be found physically - not on a map, I’ve had to get out there and explore.

Ironically, even though we are now allowed to drive to locations (in England, obvs) and meet up with more than just ourselves, I still find myself riding the trails I found during lockdown. In fact some of them may well become my new fallback trails. I’ve found my new normal.

Silver linings and all that; thanks Lockdown.

Headspace

20 months ago, I became a father. It was the proudest, happiest, most emotional day of my life.

The immense joy I had at seeing mini me arrive safely in to this world, and the ongoing pleasure I get seeing my little chap grow and develop, is immeasurable.

But, in a seeming attempt at balancing the scales, fate has decreed that, as compensation, I must now suffer a significant reduction in riding time. I can’t have both.

That’s ok. It was hard to come to terms with at first; I knew it would happen but, nonetheless, I was still unprepared.

Watching YouTube clips and Instagram stories from friends’ and associates’ rides, and matching that up to their Strava feeds has done nothing but feed the thought of being left out. I should just put my phone down and block it out but, you know, we all suffer with insatiable appetites for social interaction. Keeping on top of everyone else’s goings on is a huge part of that.

I mean, how can I be influenced if I don’t check out the influencer’s channels.

Anyway, What has actually struck me most since this change in circumstance is not the lack of bike time - although that is very obvious in its absence - but the lack of me time, in general. The importance of headspace. Or, more specifically, the ability to engage with it; or the time to, has become very prominent.

I can’t say the same for everybody (I’m not a psychologist) but I know from personal experience that not having enough time to myself can lead to feeling repressed. For some, this may not be a lot. For other’s, time for reflection is a considerable element of their social wellbeing.

Me, personally; I’m like a dog scratching at the door, or holding the lead in front of its owner. I need to get outside. I like it there. It helps give my brain a chance to breathe.

I always find a good bike ride allows my consciousness some time off, giving my unconscious thoughts the room to grow. In a creative capacity, this can be very liberating. With my brain left to undertake base functions only, such as breathing (literally), there is more room to breathe (figuratively); and space for ideas to bloom.

I have had some of my more creative thoughts whilst in the midst of a hard as f**k climb up whatever hill I’ve decided is the days torture.

Before M arrived, I would ride 2 or 3 times a week, averaging 30km a ride (2-3 hours a time). Some might say this isn’t actually a lot but it was enough for me. Since M arrived, however, this has dwindled to the point that between Christmas (2019, in case you were wondering) and the end of April, I’d been out once on my bike.

Babies/children take up a lot of time; so much so that it can be hard to find the time or space to think about anything else. You spend 90% of it trying to prevent them from killing themselves and the other 10% trying to calm them down after they throw a Hissy fit due to your interventions.

Since his birth, I think I’ve been so engrossed in this little being, that requires all the help I can give him to survive, that I’d sort of forgotten about myself and, in the midst of his arrival, getting out for a bike ride became difficult; so I took up running.

However, running is is nowhere near the same (for me) - for a start, I’ve found it is a lot harder to get rid of an ear worm whilst running than it is out on the bike. Seriously, if it’s not Hey Duggee, I’m humming the theme to Mr ‘effin tumble, constantly - but it does help with head space.

I have found proper mountain bike riding time hard to come by, which itself is depressing at first. I have, simply, had to revise how and where I get my fix for the time being; linking up local bridleways and gravel tracks to create half an hour of off road freedom still provides a break for my mind.

I can vary the routes, to mitigate boredom, but they’re not hugely technical and not really that interesting. The important thing, however, is the ability to get lost in my headspace.

When I’m on the mountain bike, it doesn’t really matter where I’m going. I’ll happily ride to the shops (the long way round, obvs) if it gives me a chance to draw breath.

Babies demand 100% of your attention and energy most of the time; whatever is left is usually reserved for a cup of tea (which inevitably goes cold) but there are ways to get some headspace, if you are willing to compromise and determined to find solutions.

Mine is on my bike and, thankfully, it’s always there when I need it.