Life

Sometimes you just need to challenge yourself

Why do humans climb mountains, run marathons and throw themselves down hills on bikes? Abi Jackson found out all about motivation when she took on a 100-mile cycle challenge

Competitors take part in a triathlon
Competitors take part in a triathlon Competitors take part in a triathlon

CHANCES are you know someone either training for – or recovering from – some sort of fitness challenge. From 5k runs and marathons to triathlons and everything in between, the options are endless – and more of us are getting involved.

Four months ago I was challenged to do a 100-mile cycle. The event saw more than 25,000 amateur cyclists set off shortly after sunrise from a park in central London, before pedalling out to Surrey, finishing, 100 miles and some gruelling hills later, along The Mall.

I hadn't cycled further than a few miles in my life before. But after consulting a physio (I'd recently returned to fitness following a difficult few years of back problems) and asking my brother-in-law Steve, a keen cyclist, whether I was insane for even considering it, I signed up.

At first, training was an exciting novelty. I had no difficulty getting up early at the weekend to head out on the bike. Bad weather, hangovers and tiredness were never an excuse. My dedication surprised me, though. My family know me for my love of lie-ins, and while I'm never short of dreams and ideas, following through has never been a strong point. So what was different this time?

For psychologists, there are two main 'types' of motivators: intrinsic (basically, those that come from within, the personal things), and extrinsic (rewards that come from external factors).

"One such motivator may be an intrinsic need to seek out new things and challenges that's driven simply by an enjoyment of the challenge," explains Dr Elle Boag, a lecturer in social psychology.

"Intrinsic motivation could be viewed as a means by which individuals see themselves 'grow' or 'improve' by participating in increasingly difficult challenges. Intrinsically motivated people are strong believers in their own autonomous ability to locate, rigorously prepare for, and succeed in achieving their goals.

"In contrast, other motivations can be very extrinsic; the rewards sought are from external sources – like friends, colleagues, family, the media – and are driven by a need to be seen as a 'winner' or 'successful'."

It's not always a case that you fall into one of the two camps exclusively; often, intrinsic and extrinsic factors both play a part.

It's an area sport and exercise psychology lecturer Philip Clarke is particularly interested in, on both a professional and personal level, having completed a 417-mile ultra-marathon, running an average 33 miles a day across 13 days, back in 2011 with a friend.

"Prior to training for the event, neither of us had ever competed in a run before," he recalls.

His initial motivation was to raise money for a cancer charity, after the illness had affected a close family member. But Clarke acknowledges that accomplishing the task involved a deeper level of drive.

"Before I completed the run, I was overweight and a lot of people said they didn't think I could do it, but I always had that belief it would get done," he explains.

"A lot of people who've completed a big challenge will express the importance of mindset. One key factor is being able to cope and persevere with the pain and suffering experienced on the muscles for long durations. Research shows that those who take part in ultra-marathons are more motivated by the personal achievements of personal bests or completing a difficult course, for example, and therefore have a very task/process goal orientation, compared to focussing on the outcome of the competition."

These principles are not directly proportional to the overall scale of the challenge either. Or, in other words, what amounts to a challenge – and its associated rewards – are entirely individual.

For me, two intrinsic motivators played a big part. Firstly, after coming through my back problems, being pain-free and able to properly use my body again, was an absolute joy. I felt incredibly lucky that I'd been given a second chance at exercise, and didn't want to waste that blessing.

Getting to that point had taken a lot of patience and painful stop-starts, though, and at first I'd told myself that the modest fitness levels I'd accomplished were enough. But as time went on, the desire to push myself further crept to the surface – I wanted to celebrate, and perhaps also prove, my return to wellness.

Secondly, I'd recently had my heart broken. Training provided the perfect distraction.

Confidence, however, didn't come so easy, and as the big day approached, panic hit. I'd managed to get up to cycling 50 miles but it felt like my limit. While I knew nobody would judge me and it really wouldn't matter if I didn't complete the 100 miles, suddenly I was overwhelmed by nerves.

What had I been thinking signing up to something that was so obviously beyond my capabilities? Was I going to injure myself and undo all the hard work that'd gone into healing my back?

I considered dropping out. But, deep down, I knew I'd rather try and fail than let fear of failing hold me back altogether.

Shortly after sunrise on the big day, surrounded by Lycra-clad bodies – which, reassuringly, were of all shapes, sizes and ages – I set off. The first 40 miles were tense. Convinced I'd reach half way then seize up, I stuck to an easy pace. As the halfway point approached, I started to relax.

Instead of worrying about things going wrong, I found myself smiling and chatting to other riders, sharing jokes with my fellow huffers and puffers and revelling in the, 'Can you believe we're actually doing this?!' camaraderie.

And later that day (admittedly with mere minutes to go before the final cut-off point), I cycled over the finish line, with tears in my eyes and the most incredible sense of accomplishment.