Denial

For the past 24 hours I've been locked in a bit of a battle with myself. A few of the girls at work - myself included thus far - are heading out to the local hills after work today, for an easy ride around the reservoirs. It is mostly flat firetrack, with two "short" climbs. The idea is that it will be a leisurely mountainbike to balance out the normal downhilling and long hours out that we normally do when the boys are in the group.

 I've been out on my bike three times since November last year, all of which proved to be a bit too much in one go. When I say too much, they have all been between 10-20km - which for the old me is a warmup, nothing more. My brain says this is nothing, but my body has been telling me otherwise. 

 So right now, I'm locked in a battle of my mind and body. My mind is fighting to go out, for two reasons. 

 Firstly, I've really not spent any time on my bike since before winter, the weather is now perfect, and I'm absolutely itching to get back on the trails - watching everyone else do it has been tortuous, as has been coming up for excuses why I can't come on the 60-80km cycles that our cycling posse at work has been doing, and which normally I'd be the first to sign up to. 
I love nothing more than coming home covered in mud after a brilliant mountain biking session ©
The second reason is because I am in full-blown denial about the realities of my current situation with ME. Last year I cycled 3,000km between January and November in full on training mode - and that mindset, along with the desire to be enjoying the wonderful great outdoors to the fullest extent, hasn't completely left me. 
Coming down the end of McMoab on Kirroughtree's Black Craig's run - October 2013 ©
Following the shock of my diagnosis a few months ago, I have apparently now moved on to complete denial that I can't be active the way I was even early last year, and the stubborn part of me is insisting that I'll be fine if I go on my bike today. It's only a couple small climbs and the rest is flat firetrack, it's so easy. How is that going to hurt me? 

 If I am brutally honest with myself I know that it will probably take a huge chunk out of me. But that stubborn bit is keen to test my limits, despite probably already knowing what my limits are. I'm gambling on short-term gratification, i.e. getting out on my bike, against a real, long-term risk of worsening my symptoms. 

 But the mind is an interesting creature. 
"As the reality of loss is hard to face, one of the first reactions to follow the loss is Denial. What this means is that the person is trying to shut out the reality or magnitude of their situation, and begin to develop a false, preferable reality." - from Elisabeth Kuebler-Ross' Five Stages of Grief
Hmm. Sounds like me.

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