I wrote this while watching apparently fearless cyclists whizz by to descend Sa Calobra. I wrote this sat from the nearby café, sipping a coffee, admiring the view.
Failure looks pretty picturesque so far. But it doesn’t feel it. I didn’t intend to be sat here so soon. This was supposed to be my reward after descending the twisty Sa Calobra and climbing the 6km back to the top again.
With the numbers of times I’ve chickened out this trip (day 1 with descending, day 2 with the rain and day 5 again, with descending), my goal to climb the height of Everest is seeming very, very far away.
I hate being afraid. It takes over every sense that I have. It literally paralyses me to the point that I forget what I’m doing on the bike. Because I know what I should do, I’ve managed it the past couple of days! But one big gust of wind towards the top knocked all of that out of me.
I tried to rationalise and coax myself to carry on. I pulled in to stretch and calm down my breathing. To review the descent route and profile. It didn’t look too steep, and I would just take my time. But it didn’t work. I went to carry on and another gust of wind hit me. There went the little bit of confidence I’d built up from my pep talk.
Helmet off. Bike racked. Coffee ordered. And here I am, admiring the view, writing and consoling: it’s okay that I didn’t manage this descent, better to be safe than sorry, while also reminding myself to stop being so hard on myself and see the positives. Yes I failed to descend Sa Calobra, but I did get to enjoy some relaxing in the sunshine while admiring how beautiful Mallorca is.