I have never been very good at fuelling myself, but more importantly, I have never been very good at enjoying fuelling myself.
I am not sure where it started either. There is a reference to my eating habits in my baby book made by my mum, and I very vividly remember reading it as a teenager. Imogen is not good at eating, it reads in a blotchy blue ink, we have taken her to the doctors because she only eats peanut butter and bourbon biscuits. The doctor thinks she will grow out of it. It was dated 1995, when I was around 18 months old, and I remember finding it funny reading it back. By the age of 15, I hadn't grown out of it - Bourbon biscuits and peanut butter was still my preferred meal. I'm not sure if it started then.
I have always preferred not eating to eating, which a strange thing to say, but it seems easier somehow to not. Sometimes I forget to eat, and sometimes I purposefully stop myself. I find thinking about what meals to have stressful and I like leaving half packets of crisps in the back of cupboards, or only taking one bite of a cake before throwing it in the bin. When I was young, I would hide Christmas chocolate or my favourite toys and refuse to let myself near them until a specific day. I enjoyed the suspense, and the feeling of excitement in the build up to being able to eat whatever it was that I hid from myself. By my teenage years, I enjoyed skipping meals and trying to get my calorie count as low as possible. I remember hearing two girls at school say they were no longer eating anything more than 100 calories at school. I didn't really understand what calories were - and neither did they, clearly - but 100 seemed more than enough. I remember feeling confused and slightly disappointed when I found out it was less than a kit-kat. When Special-K released their 'Special K Bikini Body diet', I was hooked. I lived on two bowls of Special K a day, and proved their diet worked - I dropped down to about 5 and a half stone and couldn't get through the day without napping. I was always cold.
I am very aware that I have a complicated relationship with food; this has been bought to the fore in recent years by my dive into cycling. Anyone who has spent any amount of time on the bike will know how calories are needed when on a ride, and how a 'bonk' can seriously disrupt your mental capacity to continue on your route. Being unable to fuel yourself, or - as in my case - enjoying not fuelling yourself should be an anathema to a cyclist. Without appropriate fuelling, a cyclist can go nowhere. I know this.
I set out last week on a big ride. I didn't necessarily plan for it to be a big ride, but I wanted to follow several specific routes that I knew would probably take me all day to ride. I didn't know how many miles it would be, and I didn't bother checking it on the map. I've written before about my anxiety on big rides, so I thought it would be more helpful just to lie to myself.
I hit a wall the night before when packing my bag, because I didn't know what food to take. I am rubbish at planning with my food, and as I mentioned before find it stressful and overwhelming thinking about what I might need to eat. I stood looking at a garbled mess of 'stuff I could take with me' and sighed.
Seeds and fatty things seemed useful, but I know I never fancy them when I am riding. Equally, I never fancy anything overly sweet, and if I eat too many crisps or anything too carby, I notice my stomach seems to harden and I become sluggish. I chucked in a bag some chocolate, fruit, corn, seeds, crisps, cereal bars and some banana bread. The next morning I had four slices of gluten free bread and some coffee. It seemed substantial enough.
I rode for an hour before I started to feel hungry. I had chosen an off-road route that was pleasantly free from any other human, but also disturbingly free from anywhere I could buy food. It didn't matter. 15 miles in, I decided I would only eat at mile 25. This bought me comfort - I had a goal, and a reason to continue to cycle. By mile 18, my vision had become blurry and I was starting to feel cold, despite the warmth of the sun. I was really hungry. My thighs hurt, and so did my head. I stopped briefly for water, which helped slightly, but I decided to carry on. The gnawing in the pit of my stomach grew substantially, and by the time I reached mile 20, I had begun to feel sick. I stopped, deeply disappointed I hadn't managed to push myself beyond the hunger to reach my target.
I forced small bites of various bits of food and spat as my mouth filled with saliva. The nausea came in waves as I ate, and I wasn't feeling at all satisfied. It was as if everything I ate went through me. I spent about 20 minutes on my rest, but felt as tired, sluggish and hungry as I had before.
One of the most interesting aspects of my intense hunger was the sudden shift in my mood and perception of my environment. In a very short space of time, I had shifted mentally from feeling safe, happy, and generally very relaxed, to becoming edgy and nervous. I think many of us are very aware of how hunger can progress into anger or irritability, but less consider how it can cause our anxiety to skyrocket.
What I had experienced was a 'bonk', or in medical terms, the early stages of 'Hypoglycemia'. I had essentially exhausted my blood glucose reserves and need more carbs to start building it back up again. Though in most instances, bonking can be quickly resolved by eating something sugary or energy drink-ey, it can be deadly. The anxiety I mentioned early is a by-product of my body screaming at me to sort my shit out - blood glucose is an important fuel source for the brain, and when it dips too low, you move into emergency mode. Once you've dipped, you need to make sure you keep on top of the levels for the rest of the ride. You've already been in a deficit, so your body is going to try and make up for it. This is where the majority of newbie cyclists become unstuck, and start waging a war on themselves. 'You've just eaten, you don't need another break'. It is an unhealthy cycle that can breed more substantially problematic behaviours.
This was just one tiny experience - and I don't think that this experience in itself shows a troublesome relationship with food. Lots of cyclists struggle fuelling themselves. However, I do think some of my thought patterns have developed from others in the industry - the common (and wildly inaccurate) trope of 'a banana a mile', is rampant on social media. Please don't eat this many bananas, and also, please don't only rely on bananas.
We also don't talk about fuelling enough. It is sort of an afterthought, and beginners are left to their own devices in trying to figure out how many calories are required on rides. It still surprises me how hungry I can be, even a couple of days later, after even a 20 mile cycle. We make jokes about people eating too much - as if that is something they shouldn't be doing - or 'earning' their food.
I recently watched a documentary called 'Light', that tried to raise the profile of eating disorders in the climbing world. Climbing shares a lot of similarities with cycling; people try to shed weight to improve speed, while climbers drop weight to climb further and harder. The reality is that neither of these things are true over an extended period of time but seems logical enough to perpetuate the mythology. One of the most poignant parts of the documentary was that only one man was willing to come forward to speak openly about their relationship with food and eating, despite firm evidence to indicate men are impacted by eating disorders than women in sport. While not completely surprising, it was a little bit disappointing. Men dominate both sports, and much of their training and relationships with specific elements trickle into the common psyche. There needs to be far more work done to get men speaking openly about their relationship with eating and educating others on what is normal.