When You Think Your Can’t Go On: A Lesson in Going Further

Decades on the bike have taught me a great deal about performance, persistence, preparation and the art of going further.

Some lessons come from the races themselves. Others emerge from the miles, through experience, reflection and observation.

In this series, I share a few of the lessons the road has taught me, and what they might mean for life on two wheels and life on two feet.

A lesson in going further

I recently came across some research by Samuele Marcora, a professor of exercise physiology who studies the role of the mind and brain in endurance performance. Interesting guy. Interesting research. Worth checking out.

God knows, I’m no academic. I ride the bike. But what I find fascinating about his work is that it puts scientific language around something I’ve experienced repeatedly in endurance cycling.

And I think it has relevance beyond the bike, in the greater endurance event we’re all engaged in… life.

Perception of effort

Marcora’s research challenges the idea that physical exhaustion alone explains why we reach our limits and stop. His work suggests that our perception of effort plays a significant role in how long we can sustain an activity.

In other words, how hard something feels influences our willingness and ability to keep going.

Think about that for a moment.

We’ve all experienced situations where we thought we had nothing left, only to find another gear when the finish line came into view, a competitor threatened our position or someone we cared about desperately needed us.

The physical demands haven’t necessarily changed. But something has changed in how we experience them, or in our motivation to keep going.

Of course, that doesn’t mean our physical limits aren’t real. Fatigue, pain, sleep deprivation and the conditions around us all matter. But our experience of effort is not simply a direct reflection of what’s happening in our muscles. The mind has a significant part to play.

Your inner dialogue

Years of endurance cycling have taught me to pay close attention to my internal dialogue.

When I’m tired, cold and struggling, it’s easy to become absorbed in how difficult everything feels. The negative chatter starts. This is hard. I’m exhausted. How much further? How long can I keep this up?

The more I dwell on those thoughts, the more overwhelming the effort can become. My attention is fixed on the struggle, and stopping begins to feel increasingly attractive.

I’ve also noticed that as my perception of effort increases, so can my heart rate. Stress has a physical response. The relationship between mind, body and performance is fascinating.

So, what do I do when I find myself in that place?

What you focus on has power

Imagine it’s 3 am. I’m pedalling up a mountainside in extreme cold, deep into an ultra-endurance race. I’m tired, uncomfortable and facing a long stretch of road ahead.

I’ve learned that sometimes the best thing I can do is power down mentally. Not stop riding, but stop fighting the entire experience in my head. Give myself a little space to recalibrate.

I bring my attention to one thing.

It might be my breathing. It might be the three metres of road in front of my handlebars. It might be the sound of the tyres rolling rhythmically beneath me in the quiet of the night.

It doesn’t particularly matter what I choose. What matters is that I give my mind something to engage with other than the perceived difficulty of the effort.

I’m not making the climb easier. I’m not pretending the cold doesn’t hurt or that I’m not tired. I’m simply changing my relationship with what’s happening in that moment.

And sometimes, that’s enough to make continuing feel more manageable.

This isn’t about ignoring the body’s signals or pushing blindly through genuine danger. Experience teaches you to distinguish between discomfort that comes with the territory and signs that you need to ease off or stop.

But there are times when the thing making an already difficult situation feel unmanageable is the amount of attention we’re giving to just how difficult it is.

It matters in the everyday too

I think that has a wider application.

We all encounter moments when the demands of life feel greater than our capacity to deal with them. When we’re exhausted, under pressure or facing something that seems too big to manage, our attention can become fixed on the whole problem and everything that’s wrong.

Sometimes, we need to step back, bring our focus to what’s immediately in front of us and give ourselves the space to find our footing again.

Not every problem can be solved by changing our focus. But changing our focus can sometimes help us find a way through a problem that has begun to feel overwhelming.

Marcora’s research has given me another way of thinking about something I’ve experienced for years. It has also reinforced my curiosity about what defines our limits, how we recognise them and whether we sometimes reach the point of wanting to stop before we’ve reached the point where we truly have to.

I don’t have all the answers, and neither does the research. That’s part of what makes the subject so interesting.

Endurance is elastic

Endurance is elastic.

So, the next time you find yourself thinking you can’t go further — whether you’re eight kilometres into a ten-kilometre run, pedalling up an endless hill or dealing with a difficult situation in life — take a moment.

Bring your attention back to what’s immediately in front of you. Your breathing. The next few metres. The next small thing you can do.

You don’t have to solve the whole problem or conquer the entire distance right now.

Just give yourself a chance to recalibrate.

You may discover that, while the challenge hasn’t changed, your ability to meet it has.

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The road teaches you a great deal. The right guidance can help you put those lessons into practice.

If you’re ready to take your cycling further, discover what it means to train with Joe.