It was a tough rest week.
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| The last clutches of summer outside the yoga studio |
It all went to shit on Wednesday evening as I ate my tea, I didn't really feel too good and I felt even worse afterwards. I tried to read to make myself feel better but it wasn't helping. I went to bed late and disturbed with several trips to the loo before settling. At 2:30 am I went to the loo again, moved myself to the spare room and spent the next 2 hours moving between the bathroom and the spare room culminating in me puking up all that lovely dinner.
At least that allowed me to get to sleep for 3 hours before TSK came to check if I was OK. He brought me my work phone so I could call in sick and headed out for his day.
Although I rang in sick, I didn't feel so bad so I moved my meeting to Friday and then back again when a key team member announced that he couldn't make Friday and so at 11:30 I hauled ass in to work. I didn't feel ill any more but it wasn't pleasant trying to eat my body-weight in simple food (crackers) and drink 20 litres of water to rehydrate whilst conducting a technical review meeting. I'd been looking forwards to my massage and had at least managed to pack my kit so I went and enjoyed that before crashing out at home and then trying to make some sense out of Friday as a working day. Still in the car due to the overwhelming fatigue associated with losing all of Wednesday night's nutrition.
Thankfully this morning I had more motivation to get out. I didn't have anything in my plan but I thought a nice little 50 miler in full daylight would help keep the legs moving and get me ready for cyclo-cross tomorrow.
Something was bugging me about my new bike though. Last weekend I jumped on my 'cross bike on Sunday and it felt so good - so comfy, so familiar. It didn't sit well with me. My new bike was supposed to be my new comfy bike - my new familiar. FFS, I've done over 360 miles in it in three weeks. On Tuesday evening I realised the saddle had become too low so I'd lifted it. That felt much better but as I went out the door this morning, I noticed it was still low.
I lifted it back up but as I tightened the bolt, the head started to round. Shit. I couldn't be arsed with this now. I did it up as tight as I could get it and set off to the bank to get cash.
At the top of the hill I realised I didn't have my lid on but rather than head home to get it, having to repeat the hill, opted to get cash then return home to get my helmet and start from the bottom of the hill. Step 2. Finally made it out of the house with enough money to get through a day and enough head protection to survive dickishness.
Nothing felt right on the bike. My cleats were in the wrong place and I stopped three or four times on the way up the Rivelin valley to move them. I kept seeing the same ginger haired runner in a yellow coat and every time I stopped, she stopped to stretch and when I looked up from my faff she was gone like an apparition - a very colourful apparition.
By the time I got on to Rod Side, my saddle had slipped down again. It has "Thompson" printed on it and as the "H" disappeared and half of the "O" disappeared, I knew that the post had slipped at least 1.5cm. No wonder my hips and knees were starting to hurt - I wasn't just being shit.
I tentatively pulled the saddle up and set off again but then it wasn't straight and then it came down again. I decided to go to Hope and beg at 18er bikes to see if they had a seat post clamp to sell me.
With the saddle in the right place for a short time, I moved my cleats some more. My feet gradually moving further and further forward on the pedals, affecting the angle I felt I needed and eventually my feet came into alignment with my direction of travel. In the end, they almost felt like they were in the same position (by that I mean, left the same as right) which they haven't done in a long time.
I can't help think that everything changes when I have a massage - like my entire body uncoils and suddenly what used to feel aligned is nowhere near.
By the time I reached 18er bikes, the O in Thompson had disappeared completely.
The guys in the shop were great and found me an old off-cast seat post clamp from a frame that was unused. They stuck it on for free and put some C-fibre grease on the post and then noticed my derailleur was on the piss from my epic mistakes with chains 2 weeks ago in Denby Dale. They straightened that out so my gears changed smoothly and all slack was abolished from the chain.
I can't describe how happy this made me except to say that I'd been disappointed with some very expensive blingy kit that I bought for my bike thinking that the manufacturer's had only designed it for whippet roadies who ride sensible light bikes on the flat and not for thunder-thighed middle aged women who want to ride silly bikes in bizarre places. I can happily say that after only 4 hours this afternoon, that opinion has been shattered and my thundering thighs, my chain and my bike are extremely happy and snappy now.
I shot out the shop, promising to pop by and actually buy something next time.
Off to Edale for lunch. Still the cleats weren't good and I stopped at a gate to fix them. I'd long given up actually removing the shoe to do the job when I nearly pulled a back muscle this morning. Instead I cocked my leg sideways, leaned the foot on the bar gate and hung my chin over the top bar - half throttling myself but at least I could lean and see what I was doing at the same time. I thought I'd garrote myself if someone stopped to ask if I was OK.
I got into the cafe and sat and listened to an uncomfortable first date unfolding and chowed down on cheese / beans on toast. I have to remind myself that the food on offer there is so uninspiring. Still, at least it got me up the hill - after I had adjusted my cleats one more time in the warm of the shop.
At the top, I couldn't face the business of Winnats pass with all the breaking motorists so I headed for the Sustrans route across the valley bottoms to Peak forest and set off on a bit of a loop combined with a wild goose chase of off-road on limestone rocks covered in greasy mud.
I did quite a lot of bike pushing but it was beautiful and satisfying. I understood a little of why Jill enjoys snow bike pushing so much. Cathartic.
At the other end, finally on the road again I dropped into Bradwell and was pleased to see TSK riding the other way on his day out. I did a U-Turn and we set off to loop home together. I was secretly pleased that this would push me over my arbitrary target of 50 miles as I felt almost like I was cheating, thinking about stopping riding whilst it was still daylight.
In hindsight, it was a blessing in disguise as the temperatures truly started to hit mid-November numbers whilst we made our way, still in daylight, across the moors to the Norfolk Arms.
We locked our bikes up on the railings and made our way through wedding guests to the bar for a quick hot chocolate before the final descent and ascent to home. TSK navigated me through Fulwood and Halamshire suburbia as I still don't have a clue and then the bliss of our newly (6 months ago) resurfaced road home.
Walking through the door at 5pm just as the light disappeared I was happy to have learnt that boots, longs, extra layers, hats and buffs are now the order of things. Maybe even fluffy gloves.
It's been a hard rest week but in spite of it, the enthusiasm for long rides is still burning strong and next week I have a trip to the Lakes - just to hone some more fun out of it.
53 miles
6 hours
1550m elevation
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