Monday, November 20, 2017

Post rest week

Coming out of rest weeks is hard.  Especially when you come out of them into a difficult work week, when riding to work isn't really an option and the week passes by in a blur of office-based effort, the occasional training session strung together out of mashed-up evenings and too much alcohol and too many late nights because you feel the need to celebrate in the conjoined effort of a job hard faught but well done.

On Tuesday I did a 10km run along Morecambe sea front and much as it was wonderful, refreshing, made me proud, it left me fucked for the rest of the week.  I struggled through a Wednesday ride but spent the rest of the week recovering, wondering why my body was aching.  Still, I know I can still run and it won't be too difficult to start gently now.  Maybe a few less k's.

Wednesday, I went for a blowy and dark ride up on Quernmore and though I didn't see much, it was warm, different and the roads rushing by under my wheels were kind, dry and my bike left me feeling happy, right up until the last hill which I crawled up. 

We (a colleague went for a fell run) rushed back to town for a shower before rolling in only 10 minutes late for dinner.

I didn't ride again until Saturday when TSK and I hit my 90 mile route South and East but then cut short the return trip in favour of a direct route through Chesterfield to clock 70 miles.  It was the right thing to do but I missed my quiet meander through the lanes, instead doing battle with dickhead Saturday night drivers.  With 13 miles to go I decided my saddle position had been too cocked forward and set it right.  It felt like the best thing I'd done all day.

Sunday's  cyclo-cross was highly anticipated but from the moment the gun went, disappointing.  It felt like the first race of the season where I dawdle around at the back then spend the entire race picking people off and the only two questions are: "how many I can pick off by the time I get to the end?" and "When is it done?"

I got home, rested, ate, then decided to do something about it and sorted out Dignity so that he will sit on the rollers - distance counter installed, kitchen re-organised for the space, phone and headphones on, change of clothes.  It took longer than it should but I bashed out 20 minutes of tunes and really enjoyed it.  I wanted to do some weights too.  I should've started last week but didn't so, despite enjoying myself on the rollers, I packed up, headed upstairs and did 3 x 10 squats with some upper body exercises in between.  A little bit of stretching then time for dinner.

The thing is, the weights, the rollers made me feel absolutely euphoric.  Like something that's been on the list for a few weeks now was finally ticked off.  Like I was taking back some kind of control of my success - from work, from the weather and from myself.

I crawled into bed tired but absolutely satisfied.

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