Chasing Peaks. Enduring Troughs. 1.3

Volatility | Transcendence

Irati Jungle/Selva de Irati is one of the largest and best preserved beech and fir forests in Europe. Shaped by its alpine climate and the humid air drifting in from the Atlantic, it shares much of the flora and fauna typical of the Pyrenees. Although larger towns aren’t far away, this remains a remote and rugged area, straddling the natural border between Spain and France. The terrain is marked by rolling hills and steep slopes, with dense vegetation that has earned it the name ‘Jungle of Irati’. In fact, due to its harsh landscape and thick forest, there was no road access to this natural park until 1964. The route avoids the main road and instead follows quieter, lesser-known trails into the heart of the Irati Jungle allowing riders to fully experience the wildness of the landscape and appreciate just how remote and untouched this area still is, especially when seen from the heights of the surrounding mountains.

Early start for day two. I was surprised that even though it had been consistently raining overnight, my kit was relatively dry. Bivvy’ing under this slide was a good idea indeed.

The second day delivered on the stereotypical Basque weather I had been promised, yet didn’t fully believe. It was certainly not the Spanish summer holiday weather i first anticipated when applying for the race. When landing amongst the lush green forests of Bilbao it was clear this was the Scotland, no, Wales of Spain.

Elevation built (albeit consistently up and down) over the course of the day. The up down terrain reminiscent of The South Downs Way which featured as part of my training. But whilst rain continued, cycling shrouded in forest meant brief periods of interruption, until a point the canopy above become so saturated it released an all mighty drenching.

If you ride enough, you begin (to think) you can ‘feel’ the difference between different wooded areas. For me, the woodlands of Kent are uniquely different to that of Surrey. Whilst riding in the Quontox felt plain alien. Whether I have the gift to truly ‘feel’ a forest or not, I was convinced these forests felt familiar. And familiarity certainly fuelled what felt like a consistently strong day in the saddle. The solitude of what felt like familiar surroundings created a sense of calm that was almost meditative. Smooth, consistent and repetitive pedalling sat alongside steady deep breathing and mindset to match. Flow. If you’ve enjoyed this unique feeling yourself, you’ll know it’s not a feeling you can manipulate or manufacture. I’ve had it whilst doing steady state long runs in the past - even when tapping out a zone two ride on the turbo. A moment of intense focus and almost zen like calm.

As forest turned to pastoral heathland lawns, this time reminiscent of The New Forest, the umbrella of tree coverage subsided, revealing instead a fogged storm with huge winds that accompanied us whilst ascending this pass. Reaching the plateau, I (as were a group of Spanish riders I would be riding with for the remainder of the day) were struggling to stay upright let alone ride in straight lines. The full fetch of the wind hit our frame bags rendering them like sails. Now what I was not expecting was hikers to be coming towards us - appropriately dressed and clearly prepared. Layers on. Beaming smiles.

Quick now, it’s getting increasingly cold. We need to descend and get off this pass. Descending on tarmac was welcome especially as fighting the wind so as not to be pushed into oncoming traffic was a challenge in itself. Bruised from wind burn, we made it down. And like turning a page of a book, the once volatile weather at the summit before us, subsided to leave why was a brilliant sunset. And newly laid, polished tarmac, like you’d never ridden before meant for a peer pressure driven time trial effort into camp for the night.

No playground this evening but a church would answer our prayers of rest. An early night.

Day 2: 173km. 3,998m. 15hrs 56mins. Arraitz-Orkin to San Vicente.

Flow state theory was coined by physiologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. It describes the unique mental state of being fully absorbed and in deep focus resulting in reported effortlessness. It’s triggered in a sweet spot between hard and easy - a balance of skill and challenge.

The clear goal of the ride, immediate feedback and intense concentration leads to a loss of self consciousness and a feeling as if time itself is warped. Flow is not limited to endurance sport. Michael Jordan described it as ‘being in the zone’, “Everything slowed down. It felt like I could see things before they happened. The basket looked huge. I was just in rhythm - I couldn’t miss.”

Chasing flow state is not something much discussed, but I challenge anyone who has experienced it to deny they don’t want more. During flow, the brain releases a cocktail of dopamine, norepinephrine and endorphins. These boost motivation, sharpen focus and reduce pain. The repetitive nature of endurance sport is fertile ground to trigger it. I’ve experienced it myself during long slow runs, prolonged zone two turbo efforts and on solo training rides. Chasing flow is addictive and demands balance to avoid the negative spiral that is overtraining, burnout, or neglect of recovery and life outside of cycling.