Week 8 has been a tough one. No over-dramatisations here, I am wondering whether I can get over the tragic demise of week 8.
Week 8 was supposed to be an easy week on my training plan which is a bloody good job since I raced so hard at Grizedale. I knew it was going to be difficult when, two weeks ago, a colleague booked two meetings with the client on Monday and Tuesday of week 8. I begged him not to, citing exhaustion as the cause but he didn't believe me and went along and booked the meeting anyway.
So I spent my recovery cramped in the back of a car trying to drown out football chat on Talk Sport radio which, to be honest, was pretty easy since I couldn't hear the conversation in the front and had my laptop to keep me company in the back.
We did our site survey and moved on to the next site. By 8pm I was back in another nameless faceless restaurant near a hotel serving Ashford International and I was drinking red wine and - well, at least Frankie and Benny's serves salad. Undressed salad but salad nevertheless. This is Kent.
Something gave me indegestion again. Probably the attempt at yoga after two glasses of wine. I tossed and turned under a full moon until 1:30 am when I got up to get some fresh air. I had a pleasant - if cold - walk from Ashford. I didn't go anywhere except the top of the hill on the road we were staying on in each direction. For fear of being jumped by migrants or stout UKIPs thinking I was a migrant in my trainers, jeans and hoodie, I walked with my hands in pockets and head down until I poured back into bed and actually got to sleep until 5:30am. I had no intentions on running or swimming and no bike with me so I ate some breakfast from a porridge pot, had another shower and did some small yoga until breakfast time at 7. No way to start the day... but the worst was still to come.
"Lunch" was a McDonalds on the way to site. Actually, I drew the line and went to Costa for a cheese toastie and was toiletted, served, sat down and eating before the hardy MccyD's queue. Ah the joys of a healthy diet.
Site was not a breeze from 12:00 without any offer of further food or a coffee. I allowed the others to do the talking and the measuring and followed them quietly around the place, interacting as required.
The drive home was much the same as the drive there except instead of my laptop to keep me company I had the land of nodd. 4 hours of uncomfortable sleeping did no good to the neck / shoulder stiffness I've been carrying but at least me knocking out zedds in the back made the chap who organised the meeting (and who was driving) the message that maybe in future they should listen to me when it comes to my own wellbeing.
I woke up around Mansfield exit and worked until we reached the office and i got in the car to drive home to my bed.
NOTHING was going to stop me riding to work on Wednesday although I had already decided to give swimming a week off to recover my shoulder. It was a good shakeout ride for the legs. No heroics on an easy week.
And then we were there again. Thursday, time to go away again. The morning's "run" training was loading the car with a sore knee - still aching from the weekend. Up and down the stairs. Every day I had been too hungry to move at lunchtime and Thursday was no different. With deadlines to meet, we skipped the pub, grabbed a sandwich (well, I suppose the walk to the butty shop is still keeping my legs in) and worked through till all of 4pm when TSK and I headed up to Kielder for my second Ironman reccee.
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