Before we settle down to the nitty-gritty of this week’s blog, I’d like to draw your collective attentions to a little competition I’m running to celebrate the birth of www.tom-staniford.co.uk , my reaching 5000 posts on the RCUK forum, and the return of the delusional grimpeur. Prizes very generously provided by High5 and Rapha. Taking the form of a caption competition, hop on over to my website to read more and see the picture in question. Entries submitted to the RCUK forum thread attached to this blog.

With that off my chest; onto the blog proper.

I don’t know about the weather where you are but over the last few days in Exeter we’ve had a return to the freezing cold temperatures of mid to late December, and it’s at times like this that your mettle is surely tested.

With winter equinox over and the days now getting longer it’s easy to get complacent and think ‘oh, well… from here on the way is surely up’. This is true, to an extent, and a great comfort if you’re not enjoying your riding much at the time. But when the weather takes a turn for the worse again and you’re battered with heavy rains or frostier climes, it can play havoc with the shrewdly-calculated ascent to cycling superstardom and summer invincibility that you’ve mapped out in your head.

The vast majority of cyclists- whether pro, recreational or merely occasional- can stick to a plan. Well, for a time. It’s fairly easy. In general we like rules, we like boundaries, we like simplicity. The issues arise, however, when there is a potential issue/development which threatens to derail us from the straight and narrow of our chugging locomotive desire. I mean our desires which chug along. Relentless. Like a locomotive. Yes, like that. I’m not advocating car-love. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Well, in most countries. But I’m not here to judge, do what you will. However, I digress.

So… Persistence, perseverance, commitment, dedication. Call it whatever you will- this is the quality that above all, for me, personifies the attitude of the true champion. It’s a desire to keep going, whatever the odds. Whether that be on a daily basis, (the grind of regular toil, training and the balance of life/family/work) a session basis (gritting your teeth and really driving on for that last interval), or an event basis (really pushing for that Gold finishing time at the sportive you’ve been dreaming of completing all year).

Because, you see, champions walk amongst us. If you’ve met one, you’ve probably been struck by how commonplace and down to earth they are. That’s because they are, in many ways, identical to us. They have had to struggle, to balance commitments, to have off/bad days and deal with temporary issues. The only real difference between us and them (thankfully the day is still many years off before I start classing myself as one of ‘them’ or referring to myself in the 3rd person) is in how they approach their business.

Consider, then, how many of these champions started. They may have been one of the lucky few to win their first race. Local chipper or youth event, go out (probably with inferior kit and/or experience) blow away their contemporaries. Come back, do it again. Glittering stardom beckons, a dizzying ascent to the heights of the sport. And yet… how many have then gone straight on to be World Champions in their discipline, or to have confirmed their place as one of the greatest of all time? (I must at this point insist that you’re not allowed to mention Chrissie Wellington, an athlete I hold in incredibly high regard. She’s ruining my argument, so I’ll just pretend to ignore her.)

Obviously there are not that many World Champions around. Certainly far less in existence than the gifted individuals who won their first race or showed such terrific early promise. So where have they all gone? How many of you know or have known bright young things with incredible early talent, who then (for whatever reason) fall out of love or practice with the sport, and slip quite contentedly into a life of anonymity and malnourished potential?

The kind of adaptations, developments, and strengths required to ascend the very peaks of performance (in any endeavour) cannot be gifted or earned in the space of an afternoon or a few frantic weeks of activity. It takes years. Granted, some of your contemporaries may have been genetically blessed with long thigh muscles, or a particularly high VO2, or any number of other physical advantages. Yet those advantages alone never ensure success. They are very rarely a ticket to immediate success, and in the long run will surely be trumped by consistent persistent and dedicated commitment (bit of a tautology just to labour the point).

So to conclude this slightly long-winded and circumlocutory pondering… Keep at it.

Whatever it is you do, do it. Lots. And keep doing it. Because it may not always feel like it (especially in this weather) but every single extra minute you spend on that bike, or with your family, or addressing a work project or whatever- will make its benefits known at some point.

Discomfort is inevitable in every walk of life. For everyone; even if sometimes it seems like others neatly avoid all forms of negativity.

Pain isn’t an option, then. Suffering, however, is. I would much rather ENDURE something than suffer through it. There’s a fundamental mental difference in approach there.

And what’s at the end? Well, eventually there’s a breakthrough. The sun shines brightly one day; in the middle of a week of torrential downpours. Or you get a terrific tailwind. Or someone realises what an essential cog you are to the whirring of the company you are and promotes you. Sometimes it’s not even a positive change, but just an end to the discomfort you’ve been enduring.

Summarising this quite succinctly is Aristotle (the old boy is always good to touch for a quote):

“Excellence is an art won by training and habituation. We do not act rightly because

we have virtue or excellence, but we rather have those because we have acted rightly.

We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit”

And I don’t know about you, but quitting just isn’t my style, really…

Tom