Riding up mountains while fat
Mount Hotham.
It’s the highest point in Victoria accessible by road. The village is at 1,765 metres above sea level. It’s a 30 kilometre climb from Harrietville at the base. It’s also considered one of the hardest cycling climbs in Australia which begs the question…
What was a fat, 49 year old woman doing riding up it?
The simplest answer? To prove to myself that I could.
I’d tried once before, in 2016. I got all the way to the Diamantina Spur, which is about three kms from the top, when I… gave up.
In hindsight and having now actually made it, this was pretty silly. If I’d pushed myself back then in 2016, I would’ve made it. I could argue mitigating circumstances for not making it: 1. I was on my own so I had no one to give me pep talks and encouragement and 2. I’d just had the shit scared out of me by being blown across and almost off the road on the ridge line.
My head was not in a good place. I was tired, alone, and, as it turned out, defeated.
Riding up mountains is hard for me. I suffer chronic pain from a very old back injury. I also have problems with my left shoulder (nerve and tendon damage from my broken arm) and hip (adhesions from my cesarean).
Then there’s the glaringly obvious reality of me being overweight.
My weight is between 77–79kg. However, I’m only 168cm tall (I say only because I think tend to think I’m short when I’m actually slightly above average height for my age group — all because my mum is taller than me.) If you follow those ridiculous BMI graphs, I’m about 10kg too heavy. I chose to ignore BMI because… reasons… but I can’t ignore the measuring tape which tells me my belly is way too big.
I know all this yet I lack the motivation to do very much about my weight. Mostly this is because I know that I’m actually quite healthy.
I have a resting heart rate of somewhere between 50–60 beats per minute (average for adults is between 60–100). My heart, lungs and all of my other major organs are healthy. The last time I checked, I wasn’t at risk for diabetes as my blood sugar levels were normal.
I’m just overweight.
The thing is though, if you want to ride up mountains, any extra weight is not your friend. I know that if I weighed less it would be easier and I’d probably enjoy it more. But the sticking point with this argument is when I did weigh less, I still didn’t enjoy climbing that much. The only reason I ride up mountains is to come down them, at speed. I’m willing to suffer to get the reward of the descent.
I guess I also like the idea of doing something that most people think I can’t/shouldn’t/won’t do. The ideal of a female cyclist is a woman who is not necessarily taller than me but way more tanned and thinner than I am.
The interesting thing is that I don’t feel self-conscious when I’m fully kitted up in my cycling gear. I’m more than aware that everyone can see all my flabby bits but for some reason, I don’t care. Which is a huge contradiction to my behaviour the rest of the time, because I do care (intensely) about how I look.
Perhaps when I get dressed for a ride, I subconsciously feel like I’m putting on armour that allows me not to care about what others think. I’m getting ready to do something I love and that’s enough to break through my usual self-consciousness. It could also be the ritual involved in getting ready. It’s familiar and after being a cyclist for nearly 15 years, it’s comforting.
It’s also really liberating to simply not care what others think. Somehow I’ve been able to embrace knowing I’ll be very visible whilst I’m out riding when most of the time, I want to be the opposite. I don’t want people to notice me and judge my appearance. When I’m in my cycling gear, I’m clearly saying I don’t care, judge away.
Perhaps I also take comfort in the idea of knowing I’m doing something that the majority chose not to do. I’ve had so many experiences of mentioning doing my usual weekend ride and people saying you rode how far?
I’m not sure if that’s because I don’t fit the stereotype of a cyclist or if they can’t imagine themselves doing it so no one else can. Cycling has been part of my life for so long now and the majority of my friends are also cyclists, I often forget that it’s not an everyday activity for the majority.
I’ve also been asked why people ride up mountains and I’ve often responded with because it’s there? The other response is it seemed like a good idea at the time.
It really feels like so much riding is done simply because we can do it, because the opportunity is presented to do something you haven’t done before. Or because of the challenge. Riding up Hotham was certainly all of that.
It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But now I can say I’ve done it.
