Saturday, May 14, 2016

Evil week 15 and the attack of misplaced Friday 13ths

It's Saturday.  14th May.

I'm sitting on the sofa with my foot on a cushion and an ice pack on it.  I am pissed off and miserable.  An innocent rush for the door caused me to trip over a bike pedal with my bare foot and now I have a purplish lump and a very sore foot.  Let me reitterate - I am miserable.

The what ifs: mainly, if I hadn't been silly enough to attempt a hilly training session and had instead stuck to my 80 mile target.  I'd have been home later and gone out for my brick run.  Instead, I was in the house to rush for the door.  Still, at least I rode 62 hilly miles (1500m climbing).  I guess if I decide not to race tomorrow, I might be able to force my foot to endure a few laps of the pool (115 to be precise).

I wanted to race - so bad.  I qualified at Bala last year exactly two weeks after racing my heart out in the Triathlon Team Sprint races.  I wanted to sprint race two weeks before Lisbon.  I wanted to do First of the Summer Tri.  I just hope I can finish my tri season at this rate.

Thank god the person at the door was a friend and not a cold caller.

My week was moderately successful.  Sunday's run left me in the mood for more but I was restrained on Monday and took the time for a little recovery.  A vow to stick to the plan for a while.

It was a good decision. Tuesday saw me doing yoga in the morning (new resolution to keep this up), an unexpected run at lunchtime which I stretched out to 7 miles in 1:05 and swimming at Harthill in the evening.

Harthill left me swearing.  Only 1 mile swum when I know I've recently been capable of 3.5km in the pool.  I NEED to get more distance done in open water.  I didn't push myself but I didn't leave the water perfectly peachy either.  The water temperature was a balmy 16 degrees - warmer than Lisbon!  I stood in the hot shower for some time consoling myself and eventually convinced myself that too much water is getting in and flowing through my suit.  Incase there's any doubt of this, I am pretty much swimming in a constant cold stream of water and have all the hydrodynamics of a plastic bag.  I've not used anti-chaffe all season and haven't suffered any pain from friction burns AT ALL.

I slept well on Tuesday night what with all the exercise but once I had a rest day on Wednesday, enforced by a training course in Manchester and exacerbated by closure of the tri store in Wilmslow, I went to bed consumed with anxiety about poorly fitting wetsuits and that evening and into the night was spent researching wetsuits.  ]

On Thursday, I dropped my car in for service, cycled to work, ran at lunchtime and then... then... home via Accelerate to pick up some new feet and via all of two shops in Sheffield that are still selling (a choice of only two manufacturers of) wetsuits.

Unfortunately Thursday was the hottest day of the year so that was a workout and a half, riding between stores and trying to shimmy a sweaty body into tight rubber in confined changing rooms.  Still, Thursday I managed a run.

Well, I had to pick up that car Friday but I was so knackered, I walked there.  I'd not worked enough hours this week so Friday was a late one and I was glad of having a car to drive home in.  All hours worked, I headed home to attempt to recover.  The body was willing but the brain was not.  It wasn't to be and I had to get out of bed - around 10:30 to go into the loft and measure my bike to ensure it complied with ITU rules and then sit on the sofa to analyse the week.  More progress towards having faith in the programme and calming an uneasy mind.  Unfortunately it doesn't help with the sleep deprivation.

Today's ride blew the faith in the programme out of the window a little bit.  I acknowledge I was a little silly to expect an 80 mile ride that had that many hills in it.  After riding all the way up Winnats on my tt bike (Rosie Red) with a 28 gear, I was feeling pretty pleased with myself.  Unfortunately the descent of Rushup edge cooled my sweaty skin right down again.

Patchwork Quilted Moorland
I flipped over into Wash then on my way up Chunnal - a beast of a hill - at mile 29 I just had to stop.  I couldn't breathe, I had no motivation and my calves and groin were starting to twinge.  Panic set in.  Is it happening again?  I leant over and had a breathe over the handlebars.  90 seconds rest sorted me out.  Once in Glossop I stopped for lunch then headed over the snake.

Beautiful flowers in Glossop.
The rest of the ride proceeded without event although my shoulders started to ache and I spent most of the snake hill climb with my hands on my elbow pads, stretching my back as much as possible.  It's been a long time since I've ridden Rosie Red.

Feeling blessed to have this view on my way home.
At mile 40, instead of knowing I could do another loop, I knew it was time to go home.  I added an item to my shopping list - a new stem for Rosie to give me a little more space to spin my legs and ease the pain through my shoulder blades.  It should help me run faster in the long race though it can stay the way it is until after Lisbon.

So I set off for home to shop the internet.  I could swim in the afternoon.  I could do my run.


In fact I closed the door behind me and said, "Fuck that". I could have done any of those things but instead I had a shower, went shopping for food and then broke my foot.

Tomorrow is another day and I have no idea what it is going to look like.

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