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DMR Bikes are always a brand close to my heart. I'll always have the best memories being tight there at the beginning of their journey, nearly 28 years ago now in the back office of our BMX shop near Brighton, but this is another story.
I wanted to share this video as DMR are always so generous with their support for my bike and help me massivley with components for my Bikes and I'm forever grateful. This video also deserves a share because Olly Wilkins is one of my favourite riders, and also co-host on my number one podcast, The Ride Companion. This guy shreds on any bike and the guys that help put this together are all bloody legends. Big shout out to Matt Gray too. He's always so suppportive of my Trailhead Project, and I'm sure that Matt and Damo (DMR) are 100% behind this too, if you're into bikes, have a look.
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Has Spring really sprung yet? I look outside on the morning of the first day of spring and the rain is hitting the patio. The heavy drops hitting the patio door step, the skate ramp cover collecting puddles, which our dog will drink instead of his bowl in the kitchen. The bamboo in the corner of the garden, swaying in the wind, and the rain keeps on coming. Is it spring? I’m not sure. Two day later as I post this and the rain is still coming. But when we reach the twenty-first day of March, the first day of Spring, that alone is worth a cheer, a little yelp of happiness and freedom for the darkness of winter. The evening post-work light allows for a surf or a bike ride. Just saying that 'post-work ride or surf' out loud is enough for celebration. Yes, Spring is in the air. The warmth of the March sun broke through briefly at work yesterday, and that was pretty nice. As I walked out from the day spent rendering in the basement, I peered out of the yard and was hit by the comfort of knowing that it’s nearly time to put the winter clothes away. Pack away the woolly hats, and the waterproof leggings, the thick jackets, and winter socks. The morning porridge, flask of hot soup or leftover stew that keeps you warm at work. Is it time to think about pasta salads and lighter sandwiches? Spring means that these few simplistic elements in a working day get lighter. As the days seem to get longer, the rushing around to fit everything seems to become more relaxed. By this I mean that weekends become less stressful. Trying to fit everything into the eight hours of sunlight when now we’ll have fourteen. Riding to work is just round the corner. Leaving home at six, and taking a quiet but meaningful cycle to work is a highlight of the year, heading into the sunrise, the calm seafront of Penzance, and the sea swimmers off battery rocks, or abbey slip (depending on the wind speed strength and direction) is always a lovely sight in the morning. As I pass another cyclist we exchange greetings, knowing we are on the same mission, the runners seem a little more less forthcoming in their salutations, they seem so serious. The ride home seems to be more like a training session, but not erratic. The sun in my face as I head back West is always welcome, but the hills are more of a challenge after a day being a stonemason. The way home takes me along the quiet lanes from Crowlas to Sancreed, Grumbla to Dowphra, and onto Sennen. The traffic on this route is minimal, and I relish that. After work surfing is relaxed, not hectic, the summer crowds have not yet arrived. There is no immediacy to get out of my work clothes and into a winter wetsuit in record time. The tempo is a little slower, allowing for a proper study of the conditions before heading in, rather than a glance, quick decision, manic change of attire and a sprint down the beach. Surfing also feels like the rhythm is returning, and as the sea warms a little, the winter boots come off, and that too is a moment to salute. There is always an initial cold bite to the water, but once the choice has been made to lose the extra rubber, it’s a commitment to say the least. Once again I can feel the bobbles of wax on my board, and my toes wrapped over the nose of my longboard. The hood, restrictive and blinkering at times is peeled off too, and for a time this becomes a neck warmer, the six millimetres of rubber around your neck acting as a means to stop the chilly ocean flooding down through the neck entry, and this will soon be shed too. When the surf is too poor to be of any use, I head to the hills on my mountain bike. The golden hour of spring and summer, my favourite time. As the sun gets lower on the hill, I ride laps, climbing up and racing down as fast as I can. I'm training at the moment for a big enduro event in the Summer, so this extra light is like a training aid. Riding also has more flow as the evenings get lighter and warmer. The winter trousers are replaced by shorts, the base layer lost too and short sleeves suffice. The winter jackets, washed and hung up for the winter, and the roubaix tights rolled up and put back in the box. The clear glasses back in their case and polarised lenses are cracked open again. Thick winter gloves join the roubaix tights, and the lightweight summer gloves make your hands feel bare, comparable to taking boots off for surfing. Summer gloves let you feel the grips, having better control of the bars and brakes. Riding bikes just gets better when Spring arrives. I love the seasons, I love the woolly hats, the winter jackets, the boots, the heavy shirts and cords and battening down the hatches when the Wild West storms hit Cornwall. But more than that I love it when spring arrives. Life just seems a little bit easier, motivation seems to increase, and I spend less time watching pointless television. For the most part, from now until November, you’ll find me outside until dark. Spring has Sprung, rain or not.    Sometimes things can happen right on our doorstep. Lives can be changed only metres from our homes. Ten years ago I’d look out of my kitchen window and watch my neighbour head out for his daily walk. I was intrigued by this daily sight. Equipped with massive headphones, really tight tracksuit bottoms and oversized trainers, this daily routine began to catch my eye as he headed off to the coastal path. We often just passed neighbourly greetings, I always felt that he was a very humble and quiet man, and someone you wanted to engage, but neither could ever seem to get beyond that formal greeting. When a deeper conversation finally happened he gave me some profound words of advice that I've never forgotten, in fact his words have been offered to others too, passing on his wisdom when it’s been necessary. At the time my son was probably three years old and I was teaching him to ride his balance bike across the road from our house. On the field above the ocean, and outside the madness of summer, the field is free from cars. Having a gentle incline means it’s a perfectly safe place to learn to ride a bike too. My neighbour stopped to chat and very kindly offered his admiration of our father and son bond. He'd been watching the progress over the weeks, my son’s achievements, and my joy, obvious when I was raising my arms, or offering up a high five. During this conversation I’d mentioned my work with veterans and loosely and in a forgotten context, used the term ‘mind over matter’. He quickly and ever so politely said ”please let me correct you, please don’t be mistaken, it’s mind and matter”. He went on to describe how an unhealthy mind will negatively affect our matter, our body, and our physical self. We talked of stress, and anxiety, and I explained that as we spoke I was suffering from acute stress, anxiety and depression was on the verge of taking hold. He taught me a breathing technique that emphasised following the journey of one single breath. He asked me to focus on that oxygen travelling through my body, in and out, which allowed me to immediately focus on the moment. He explained further how a negative mind can and will manifest itself negatively in our physical self, as he talked of stress leading to heart failure, skin disorders and potentially cancer. ‘Stress kills’ he warned in his gentle tone. But he also spoke of positivity, mindfulness, and meditation; his words were a wake up call; a pretty loud siren to make some changes. “You see, it’s Mind and Matter”, he said. I was so intrigued to know more, but before I saw him again, they had moved out, literally that week and thought about the regret for not speaking to him in greater depth, yet to this day, I’m thankful for his kind words of wisdom. In some ways I suppose , ‘Mind and Matter’ is not breaking any new grounds in life knowledge, literature or academic study, if you’ve been stressed or anxious, you will know that our minds affect our ability to eat and sleep properly, and if you have not experienced this yet then take this as a warning and do what is necessary to avoid the inevitable. By this point in my life, I had already begun to understand why the military might use sleep deprivation as an interrogation technique. Running a charity using surfing as a means to assist veterans in the management of their PTSD was a humbling experience, but it was slowly but surely sending me into such a negative spiral. My time with the charity came to an end amidst blame, out of control egos and lack of trust. Charity work had become a brutal wake up call and I was trying to do everything under my remit to keep people happy. I was either too proud, or too controlling to ask for help, and the consequence of this was going to bed, each night, mentally exhausted. As soon as my head hit the pillow, the bank statement would appear in my thoughts, and I’d spend the next 6 hours playing countdown; paying bills in my head until the account was empty, then go back to the starting balance, the same starting figure, and run it over again, then again, then again, I would run the same scenario until often it was dawn. If the military interrogated me back then, I would have given away the nation's secrets just to get a good night's sleep. Back then, stress and anxiety was gaining a real ‘Death Grip’ and these words ‘Mind and Matter’ meant so much to me. They really stopped me in my tracks and made me realise I was actually not well. Turns out my neighbour was a meditation master, like his Father back in India. His daily walks were part of his own meditative activities. He was truly a lovely chap, and as time moved on, I never forgot those words, and still hold them dear to this day. In a way I wish he could see that Jago is still riding bikes and our Father and Son bond is still really strong. I’d like to tell him that at times I do lapse and I do feel low. But I'd also tell him that I now have the tools to manage those times. My love of surfing and cycling, walking and writing, help to deal with that. Sometimes we meet people and they do have a real impact on us, and this neighbour was one of those. Who's yours?   |
AuthorHi, I'm Russ Pierre, a Cyclist, Surfer and outdoor enthusiast. Please join me as I have some fun on my adventures and write about all the stuff that makes me tick. Archives
October 2023
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