Friday, October 28, 2016

A cluster **** of a week

Actually, I allowed myself a pretty sweet rest week, after Monday's "recovery" ride on the mountain bike on my new Jones Bars.  They're nice, but I feel like I'm riding a 1950's motorcycle now and not too sure they'll be any more comfortable than the old bars.  Only time will tell... a lot of time to see if they still make my hands hurt after 800 miles of up.

On Tuesday evening I sent an (apparently) controversial email stating a few facts in somewhat lighthearted way.  This led some people in senior management to think I was losing it and others to email me in a rage.  I largely shrugged it off, indicated that I wasn't sorry (apparently cages had been rattled and some people had had to do some work) and I remained convicted to the message I had sent.

In the middle of this day I had to ride over to the hospital to collect the great news that I don't have breast cancer although it had taken 2 biopsies (an apparently a massive meeting) for the doctors to reach this conclusion.  You know how it is, you're not to worry but you do and then you realise it's a massive fucking relief.

I'd like to say that I handled it incredibly well except I found myself on my easy ride home on Wednesday evening, crying my eyes out from all the hassle.

I expected to have a terrible night's sleep so I took some herbal sleep remedy and instead slept like a baby and woke at 5am steaming ready to go so I swam.  I managed 4 whole lengths of kick drills (improving) and swam in total for 30 minutes.  I'm not overdoing it and am improving on last year's swim record of ONE session in October.  I am intending to improve further on ZERO in November and FOUR in December.

I further washed down Wednesday's cruddy day with a game of squash - my first in 8 years - whereby I at least made an impression on the SHEQ manager at work so hey, that's always a new department that might have me!

Let's just say beating a small ball against a wall was great at easing the stress, less good for my body which is now in a broken heap on the sofa.  I gave it a wring out on the yoga mat this morning then let it do nothing else all day.

I feel like I've regained my composure now and spent most of the afternoon considering what to do with the cluster that is next tri season.

I have realised that the world tri champs is in September - a time when I'd much rather be repeating the Torino Nice Rally.  So I won't be qualifying for the world champs.  I have to admit I am mildly relieved since the prospect of racing flatly around Rotterdam at vast expense wasn't appealing.  So I need a new target.  I can't decide whether to make it a second Euro's qualifying race or a really hard half Ironman that I've had my eye on for a while.  £/fun, the half Ironman is much better value and I get to kick off my altitude training a month earlier!

I stumbled across this wonderful blogger who speaks her mind incredibly fluidly.  My favourite excerpt so far being: "I like triathlons and I've done a few but... it's just, I can't stand... Triathletes, 'Yeah I know!'".  So there I am, I am out of excuses.  It's time for me to enter one of the least triathloney triathlons there is that I think I can still do with my cold water incapabilities.  If it's in July - why am I entering it now?  Because I need some fucking focus and motivation and direction is why.  Because I need to be training for something next year, not for something in 2018.  Because I need to be tired all over again and have some reason not to get stuck in the office... every bleeding... day...

And as I start to plan a bunch of long hilly rides - on and off road - I'm only left with one question... on this winter - "Cyclo-cross, what *IS* that???"

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