On the trail to recovery part 2

I hear my breath and my heart beating hard in my chest. It’s unnerving, the lactic acid beginning to build in my muscles and causing an uncomfortable pain on the inside of my legs. I ride towards the top of the first ascent of the blue loop. My eyes unfocussed, damn I’m unfit. It’s demoralising, how could I have lost this amount of fitness within 2 weeks?

“So which way do we go?” Alix looks confused as signs point in all directions, there is some trail maintenance in progress and we don’t know which one’s to believe or not. We head out on one trail, it feels more like a descent than an ascent and our questions were answered as two young men hurtle towards us. I notice something catching on my tyre and get off quickly to fix it.

“Hey, you’re going the wrong way, you need to turn round and take the fire track to the top of this” The first, typically Cumbrian lad points upwards.

We had cycled a kilometre for nothing, to be turned around again.

“Are you ok with that?” His accent hinted that he was Spanish, and his olive skin and dark hair confirmed this. Pointing at my bike with his gloved hand. He looked beautiful and in my stupidity I declined any help, “I’m fine, it’s just my tyre catching.”

They cycle off and I kick myself. I could have played the damsel in distress and Alix wants to punch me just as much as I want to punch myself. We decide to wait until they’re a good way in front of us and turn back on ourselves and find the fire track that would take us back up to the very top of the blue ascent.

The trail is littered with families, tentatively riding their hire bikes, stopping frequently for moody Lillie and sulky James. This is half term in the Lake District. Steam rises from flasks of hot tea or coffee whilst sandwiches are distributed amongst the family members. They’re dressed in the fashionable sports apparel that you can get in shops such as sports soccer and JJB, their socks tucked into their trousers whilst an uncomfortably long coat clings to their behind, soaking in this damp weather.

The tall oaks that surround us look spectacular in the cool light, whilst Ewe and Beech trees cover the course of the single track trail all the way to the very top.

My legs continue to burn but Alix insists that I go at the front because I set a good training pace, it’s fast for both of us. We look down the descent; it looks fair intimidating with the berms not looking very substantial. I attack these with caution, not knowing how much I can throw into it. Overall I was not that impressed with this section. It didn’t feel very well constructed and it disappointed me. Everything else as Whinlatter was almost perfection. Next, was a better section, heading down through Pine trees, the Berms becoming much steeper sided and swooping, my bike glides round, it feels awesome.



Need for a coffee calls and we decide to hit the Whinlatter visitor centre and from there we would cycle up to the top of the last red descent, our favourite. We stop off at Go Ape and call in to chat to Iain and onto cyclewise where we receive free tea and coffee and have a chat with Matt. It’s great to know the people here, there are many perks. We head back out into the cold dampness and start on the fire track ascent of the red North loop.

When riding this section, you feel very much at one with the world. Pine trees wrap themselves around you and the white warmth of your breath is the only thing that seems to be moving in the environment. The black, slate gravel below crunching, disrupting the peace. It’s calming and helps you to focus on the ascent, the burning sensation in your lungs and the ever present dizzying effect on your eyes.

Alix and I practise riding with our hands off our handlebars, she seems to be extremely talented at this, her core stability much better than mine. She laughs as I nearly plummet to the ground after getting off balance.

“Bex, be careful, don’t want a repeat of the last time you fell off your bike.” She giggles.

“Nah, neither do I, I don’t want to be out of action again for two weeks!” I feared the thought of being inactive for a long period of time. It scared me. I was not only hurt physically, but, mentally too. My riding as a result of this previous fall had somewhat fallen short of the mark, I had lost all my skill I had been building up over the summer. I pushed this thought behind me and carried on to the top. My lungs ever burning.