Rowan Hanson
Rowan's Biking Home in a Day
Fundraising for Mind
Story
Introduction
Hey there. My name is Rowan. You might remember me from a number of places. That bloke that buys all of the nice sandwiches for himself in Elements. The guy that taught you how to row whilst barely even knowing himself. The man that made a lot of noise whilst shifting lots of weight in the uni gym (while also smelling pretty terrible, I never could quite get those knee sleeves clean). However you know of me, or however you got here, I’m glad you decided to take time out of your day to listen to what I have to say (unless you decide to stop reading here, in which case, well played).
I’m doing a hideously difficult charity ride to raise funds for Mind, and also because I’m a complete masochist. Whether you want to give to a good cause, or just want to encourage my physical suffering, please consider giving even the smallest of amounts to this wonderful cause that saves lives and brings joy and self love to those who need it most on a daily basis.
Details of my route are below, and will be updated as I plan the event. Should you wish to read my own mental health story (it’s not the happiest read, just so you’re warned), then please go to the section beyond the one below. Once again, thanks for showing interest in my fundraiser.
Details of the Bike Ride
Route - Hawthorn Lane, Bracknell -> Jenny Brough Lane, Hessle.
Approximate distance and elevation - 316km, 1870m elevation gain.
Date - Final week of May (this will be highly dependent on the weather and it is possible this will change, as poor conditions could easily make this unsafe).
Route - Hawthorn Lane, Bracknell -> Jenny Brough Lane, Hessle.
Approximate distance and elevation - 316km, 1870m elevation gain.
Date - Final week of May (this will be highly dependent on the weather and it is possible this will change, as poor conditions could easily make this unsafe).
I will be setting off in the morning, and not sleeping until I reach Hessle. At a sustainable pace, this is likely to take upwards of 16 hours of cycling alone. Factor in rest and refuelling stops, and its likely this will be a 24 hour effort.
Why - I've been cycling almost as long as I can remember. Its always been a huge part of my life, whether that's just getting from A to B or its mountain biking in Dalby Forest for a weekend getaway. Combine this with a love for adventure and seeing new places, and it only seemed right that I do a ridiculously long ride across most of England.
Another big factor is my love of a challenge and getting out of my comfort zone. Being so heavily built from my powerlifting days (I'm approx 105kg, 230lbs), I am as far from an endurance athlete as they come. My broad cross section makes me as aerodynamic as a kite, and all of the weight I'm carrying makes itself known whenever there is a slight incline. At this point in my prep, I'm yet to have even done over 100km in a single ride!
But I know that despite all of this working against me, I will come out on top. I will be pushed to my limits, I will experience deep, excruciating aches and pains, but I will push through. It is through this ride that I will get to know more about myself, and gain further self awareness of how I react when everything is against me. I can't say I'm excited to suffer, but I am excited to see what this ride brings out of me.
Prep - I'm currently undertaking a 16 week programme designed to prepare me for a 300 mile ride. This is accompanied with 3 weight sessions a week. Should fatigue get too high, this gives me the option to cut training volume (e.g. because my distance is ~200 miles, I can cut training volume by 33%) in the form of shorter rides or less weights sessions.
My Story
I never really thought mental health would play a big role in my life. In fact I really never thought there were many negative things in my life. I thought “bad things don’t happen to me, they only happen to other people”, never stopping to notice just what my life had become. Denial, dishonesty, and an inability to love myself. But it’s been a long journey to get to this point, so I hope you’ll take a moment to read my story on why I’m fundraising for Mind, a mental health charity. TW: discussion of suicide.
Like most young men, I was deeply insecure growing up. Eating disorders and body dysmorphia were my normality, and it took me a couple of years of being ill nearly every day to realise that maybe rest days are actually a thing, and my muscles won’t waste away. Despite all of that effort, it was never enough, and I continued to chase that idea of “enough” with the hope that one day I would feel whole. That I might find some self-esteem, some confidence, or some feeling of belonging. That I might be free of the constant feeling of being a burden, a let down, and that I might feel acceptance.
Four years ago, my mental health hit its all time low. During the first term of my second year of university, I got to a point from which I thought I might never return. After serious illness and injury, any worth I gained from my sport (rowing) had been destroyed. My degree had already been suffering from my overcommitment to training, and the illness only made things worse. I felt alienated from those I cared about most, that they deserved better, and so I withdrew further and further from any support they might have offered, pushing them away at the same time. It was mental torture. I spent every waking moment on the edge of a breakdown.
And one day it was all just too much. I sat on the edge of my bed, pulled out several packs of painkillers from my bedside drawers, and set them on the bed beside me, ready to end my own life.
I’m still not entirely sure why I didn’t go through with it. Maybe it was because I felt like doing so would make me the ultimate failure, and my ego couldn’t allow that. Maybe it was because I knew just how much it would devastate those I cared about the most, and the intense feeling of guilt and pain that thought gave me was enough to stop me. Either way, I broke down in tears, put the painkillers away, and kept on coping.
Four years of dishonesty, insecurity, impulsive decisions, low self-esteem, low confidence, constant fear and panic attacks later, I can look back and see just how unwell I was. Sometimes I wonder how I even managed to pull through, and didn’t consider ending it all the better option. But I’m glad I didn’t, because despite thinking things wouldn’t ever get better, they did.
Last year I started going to counselling, and finally began to confront my problems. Today I find myself able to confidently stand on my own two feet. I’m proud of what I have achieved, and I am beginning to learn to show myself the love that I could only receive from or give to others for so long. I can recognise all of the objectively wonderful parts of my life; the job I find so exciting and fulfilling, the loving friends who are always there to support me and accept, my athletic abilities that allow me to pursue any passion I so wish, the list goes on. I can fully appreciate everything I have going for me, and form genuinely close relationships with those around me. I can be vulnerable. I can get upset and it be okay. I can be my own unique self, and finally feel like that is enough.
Like most young men, I was deeply insecure growing up. Eating disorders and body dysmorphia were my normality, and it took me a couple of years of being ill nearly every day to realise that maybe rest days are actually a thing, and my muscles won’t waste away. Despite all of that effort, it was never enough, and I continued to chase that idea of “enough” with the hope that one day I would feel whole. That I might find some self-esteem, some confidence, or some feeling of belonging. That I might be free of the constant feeling of being a burden, a let down, and that I might feel acceptance.
Four years ago, my mental health hit its all time low. During the first term of my second year of university, I got to a point from which I thought I might never return. After serious illness and injury, any worth I gained from my sport (rowing) had been destroyed. My degree had already been suffering from my overcommitment to training, and the illness only made things worse. I felt alienated from those I cared about most, that they deserved better, and so I withdrew further and further from any support they might have offered, pushing them away at the same time. It was mental torture. I spent every waking moment on the edge of a breakdown.
And one day it was all just too much. I sat on the edge of my bed, pulled out several packs of painkillers from my bedside drawers, and set them on the bed beside me, ready to end my own life.
I’m still not entirely sure why I didn’t go through with it. Maybe it was because I felt like doing so would make me the ultimate failure, and my ego couldn’t allow that. Maybe it was because I knew just how much it would devastate those I cared about the most, and the intense feeling of guilt and pain that thought gave me was enough to stop me. Either way, I broke down in tears, put the painkillers away, and kept on coping.
Four years of dishonesty, insecurity, impulsive decisions, low self-esteem, low confidence, constant fear and panic attacks later, I can look back and see just how unwell I was. Sometimes I wonder how I even managed to pull through, and didn’t consider ending it all the better option. But I’m glad I didn’t, because despite thinking things wouldn’t ever get better, they did.
Last year I started going to counselling, and finally began to confront my problems. Today I find myself able to confidently stand on my own two feet. I’m proud of what I have achieved, and I am beginning to learn to show myself the love that I could only receive from or give to others for so long. I can recognise all of the objectively wonderful parts of my life; the job I find so exciting and fulfilling, the loving friends who are always there to support me and accept, my athletic abilities that allow me to pursue any passion I so wish, the list goes on. I can fully appreciate everything I have going for me, and form genuinely close relationships with those around me. I can be vulnerable. I can get upset and it be okay. I can be my own unique self, and finally feel like that is enough.
Counselling opened me up to the idea that actually things might not all be okay. It showed me how shallow the superficial existence I'd focused on for so long was, and how in doing so I had lost out on truly deep connection with my friends and loved ones. It helped me understand more about who I am, what I value, and how I can move forward in a way that aligns with those values, not one that conflicts with them. The difference has been night and day for me, so much so that I'm still adjusting to not being anxious all of the time. The inner calm and stability I have found feels strange to me, but I welcome it nonetheless.
Access to mental health support saved my life. It saved me from an existence of fear, anxiety and pain. And if it can save me, it can save countless others who are suffering in silence. That’s why I’m fundraising for Mind, who provide support and advice to people struggling with their mental health, and advocate for the extension of mental health services. Thank you for reading, please consider donating to a service that not only saves lives, but drastically improves them too.
Access to mental health support saved my life. It saved me from an existence of fear, anxiety and pain. And if it can save me, it can save countless others who are suffering in silence. That’s why I’m fundraising for Mind, who provide support and advice to people struggling with their mental health, and advocate for the extension of mental health services. Thank you for reading, please consider donating to a service that not only saves lives, but drastically improves them too.