"TRUE CHAMPIONS ARE MADE WHEN NOBODY IS WATCHING" (possibly Michael Jordan)
Although a Kiwi, born only 5km from Auckland's Eden Park, you might notice reading my blog that I do not always hold the sport of rugby in high regard. I have a theory that elite athletes in team sports are not always as disciplined as those in individual sports where there is nowhere to hide. Ok of course there will be plenty of exceptions like Micheal Jordan but my judgments largely grew out of my involvement as a strength trainer with some top-level players. Highly talented, these guys were within a gnat's whisker of professional contracts but were outright lazy when it came to training, and they would never train alone. So close, so easy. Fame, fortune and opportunity were so easily within reach but nope, couldn't do it.
By contrast, walking my dog past our local park I often see a guy, clearly training for rugby. He has cones and ladders set up, a routine a focused look on his face and a stopwatch in hand. Most significantly nobody is watching. I consider this guy a champion. I have no idea who he is, how good he is at rugby but much respect. I wish him well, he is certainly making a better effort than the goons I worked with. A proud day that stood out for me when nobody was watching was the day I broke the family "grovel ride" record. It was a big ride, 465km around Central Otago but it led to the biggest ride possible, that being cycling around the world. It wasn't on telly, nobody saw it but for me was up there with becoming a world champion.
It was a rejection for a job interview that kicked this ride off. August 31, 2014. It was a Friday, I received a letter, not a phone call so I knew what was coming. I was at an all-time low. I'd been trying to find meaningful employment for years, I had been surviving on relief teaching, my Olympic career was long behind me I just wanted to get on my feet. The letter said there was a high standard of applicants, which I doubted. I threw a massive tantrum. I was livid! I was down, I needed to do something, a distraction, something cheap and adventurous. I needed to let off steam, and boost my confidence. I would forget the world and head off on an adventure. I prepared a full cycling kit; warm clothes, good lights, and plenty of food. It was time for 'Misogi".
A Misogi" is a Japanese Shinto practice of ritual purification. Traditionally it has to do with water but can also mean purifying the body by means of a challenge. The notion around the "misogi" is you do something so hard one time a year that it has an impact the other 364 days of the year. It is designed to help us uncover what we’re capable of as individuals and to tap into possibilities we don’t see in the moment.
In my family, the first "misogi" of any sort was performed by my brother Paul aged only 16. On a steel 3-speed bike he cycled 180 km over hills and gravel roads from Auckland to our family holiday destination at Whitianga because he believed he could. He almost died of heat exhaustion, but he made it, and put the doubters in the family to shame. Paul wasn't a cyclist, the furthest he rode was a few km down the road to the tennis club but Paul was tough.
As my brother Chris and I became Olympic speed skaters, cyclists and multisport athletes we had upped the family record but these rides could hardly be counted as 'Misogi'. Our bikes were too good and we were too well-trained. A misogi is relative to your personal ability. A misogi for Chris and would need to be well over 180km.
In recent months I had been focusing on finding work and focusing on financial survival. I had done almost no serious training. I’d jump straight into this misogi. I’d leave my worries at home and complete an epic lap around Central Otago. I'd ride till I could ride no more and see what happened. I made an early start, riding by 5 am. I whipped through Dunedin, the sun still hadn’t risen and the temperature was -2°C. But there is something special about the peace of early riding. You feel as if you have the world to yourself. The South Island of New Zealand may be the biggest of our islands but it is empty, has only around 1 million people and few roads. There was no shortcut on this ride. I passed the town of Laurence after 120km and from that point, it was turn around and do. 240km or do a lap 465km? I kept riding.
I rode through Roxburgh then over some nasty climbs, and arrived at Alexandra around midday for discounted cakes and sausage rolls. I continued turning the wheels the full road loop around the outside of the Otago Rail trail surrounded by fantastic Otago high country. After 360 km both the sun and temperature dropped as I lumbered into the town of Middlemarch. I stopped to quickly put on extra clothing and texted Chris, I was the new family distance champ.
I was expecting at least a petrol station in Middlemarch and had been longing for a pie. No such luck, everything was closed and it was the crusts of manky jam sandwiches that would get me over the steep hills to Mosgiel. Yes, I became exhausted, my back, neck and butt ached and by now I was going really slow. Getting off the seat to stand up the hills was wobbly and put me endanger of toppling over. But I just kept turning the increasingly smaller gears, I was gonna make it.
Manky jam sandwiches long burned, I staggered into the Mosgiel Subway 5min before the 10 pm closing for a 5$ sub I couldn't afford. A friendly young worker looked up from her mopping. "Wow bro, you look trashed. How far did you ride"? I impressed her saying I was well beyond 100km. She would not have believed or conceptualized that by now I was over 400km. I had no energy for elaborating, I needed to eat. I wobbled into Dunedin and crawled the final 20 km, arriving at my home in Portobello around 11:00pm. 465 km! The Nicholson Grovel Ride record had been taken to a new level.
Lying down felt intoxicating. When you bang your head against a wall all day and finally stop it, feels great! I figured this was a bit like what a heroin hit must feel like, my body floated with fatigue, the ceiling was spinning? I was so proud, Marcela. My wife had to tend to my every need for the next 4 days.
Ok, I had beaten the family distance record and bragged to my brothers but nobody saw the ride. It wasn't an event and didn't need to be. The ride had cost me nothing, I had experienced nature at its best without making an impact on the planet, smashed the family record and gave myself a reason to believe in my potential. The ride didn't fix my employment situation but led me on a far more fulfilling journey. Down? Get up and pick a misogi. You might surprise yourself
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