The Swift Summit 200 v8 Unveiled new Self Discoveries

Acknowledgements: I again extend my deepest gratitude to the organize and all of the volunteers who made this possible. Here is how I found a new layer to my own answer to why? To my pacing buddy and fellow commiserator, thank you for being a part of this journey. 💜🚴🏼‍♀️

There are all sorts of responses when I tell someone I did an ultra endurance ride. The most common of then is expectedly a flavor of “Why in world you do that?!!” It’s something that is beyond belief–even to some of my cycling friends. This weekend I realized that my answer to the question of why has been subtly evolving.

Eventually I will get around to finishing the article on the correlation between endurance athletes and those recovering from trauma. It’s a fascinating topic, and understandably requires an immense amount of emotional energy. This article is focused on the outcome of those experiences and the healing process that has followed.

The Unavoidable Impact of an Extreme Activity

There is no avoiding the reality that ultra-endurance requires enormous demands physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Pushing my limits to that extreme forces me to work through how I respond to all manners of pain and discomfort. Why don’t I just throw in the towel when I feel like I can’t give any more and choose to slowly progress instead of stop? How can I find ways to support myself when I am under immense displeasure?

During the incredible and curse-filled 17 hours—15 of which were spent moving—to complete the Swift Summit 200 mile ride I had to confront some issues that I had rarely faced, with the gift of some beautiful and unexpected healing. I’ll do a more in depth overview of the ride experience, but that will be a separate post. I keep on coming back to the why with a freshly discovered layer. Though I will share a few highlights (lowlights?) from the pain cave’s depths:

• I could barely eat or drink for the last 4 hours. Absolutely nothing tasted good, and I was constantly trying to make sure I consumed enough to not bonk,¹ while also recognizing how pissed my stomach and GI system were and wanting to avoid vomiting.
• Around that time I also lost feeling in my right index finger. It still hasn’t come back, but it’s slowly starting to return.
• I was constantly checking in with myself as my body screamed that it wanted to stop. I would consider the status of my pain levels and their impact on my safety both immediately and in the near term. Then I’d will my mind to be quiet for another 30-60 minutes.
• I relied on someone I had just met that morning to help me push through so many times I would have otherwise quit. Similarly, I did that for her. As we approached the finish we kept expressing how we would not have finished the ride without each other, having no more energy to give. Side note that riding alongside 3 of the other 4 women doing the 200 mile ride for the first half was incredible!

Recovery: The Opposing End of the Equation

I cannot ask my body to give so much, pushing past boundaries it has never done before, without equally investing into the care of it afterwards. Recovery is a critical aspect of any sustained form of exercise. The most obvious reason for this is to allow the body to heal and reduce the risk of injury. As I so desperately wanted to plop into bed, my mind kept asserting that I needed to do yoga first. my hair was wet any way, and this was a better way to pass time for it to dry.

The idea of meditation while sitting still does not work for me in the slightest. I tried to will it into existence before finding methods which also evoked similar forms of self presence. Mindfulness is directly related to various forms of movement for me. Whether that or being an athlete is the robin or the egg², I don’t yet know. It was important to prioritize my aching body with 10 minutes of heavily modified yoga to begin the stretching and healing routine before I fell asleep.

Intentional Gratitude as Mental Recovery

I have been trying to be more intentional in thanking my body. I am amazed at the things it continues to accomplish, and also the new things I discover about my relationship to it. There is so much to be grateful for after an ultra endurance ride. Most notably, I’m grateful that I can push my body to something that seems unachievable and find ways to balance the different needs. I’m grateful I discovered earlier this summer that I can indeed tell the difference between something I can push through and when I need to stop for my own well being. I’m sure my family appreciates also knowing that. I’m grateful for the lessons I have learned of how I can manage the coexistence of immutable sources of pain and friction with a goal I long for.

As I awkwardly moved into pigeon pose to relieve my hips, I realized that this particular means of recovery leaned heavily into mental and psychological recovery. I am keenly aware of the nuances of how my body is responding to an endurance experience. Forcing my body to continue to push when it should reasonably stop, can come with the negative cost of disassociating from the body and its pain. Detaching the mind from the body can be a means of coping through those dark moments for ultra endurance athletes. It’s one that I avoid approaching, even if I insatiably crave it. This juxtaposition led to this experience’s ultimate self realization.

How I have Rediscovered Myself and my Body

I didn’t understand my body for a long time. My brain and experiences seemed so foreign to other experiences presented. Why was it hard to socialize? Why do I struggle understanding so many little conventions? Why did I have dreams of being a girl before puberty? For so many reasons, I didn’t feel like I could externalize these thoughts. I also didn’t give anyone the chance to respond. Instead I decided—or couldn’t find a seemingly better alternative—to repress them and hope they wouldn’t come back. It didn’t matter how often they returned. I was sure that this time would be the one.

This disconnection from my body and mind had so many side effects that have taken a lot of work to examine, process, and heal from. It is still and ongoing process and is the compounding tax of identity repression. I finally acknowledged that these things weren’t going away. That initially started with my gender, but that immediately touches all aspects of life. Part of that process was examining what personality traits were core truths and which ones were scaffolding to help me try and counteract my own disassociation. There were many elements which proved to be central to my identity, while many more no longer felt right. I discovered that some of them were large sources of anguish.

Again there is an obvious topic of self acceptance around my gender. That is externally visible, though there are far more subterranean levels than there are visible ones. Another major internal acceptance has been that it is ok for me to have restrictions of what I can do. It is more beneficial to acknowledge my limitations to loud, bright, people-dense environments than it is to try and push through them. There is a difference between wanting something and wanting to want something. That is a central thread to unpacking normativity. There are people who will still want to be my friend and loved one with my neurodivergent needs. These characteristics are a core part of me and do not reduce my self worth.

In conclusion, it feels only fitting that as I recover from the hardest ride of my life, I prepare for a new chapter of feeling present with my body.