Closing out 2015 early

It's nearly the end of the year. We are supposed to take stock aren't we? Out with the old, in with the new. New Years resolutions. I should be ready for one last indulgence then a new year, new me.

No.

I did a tiny bit of indulging before Christmas.  I had one night out during which I realised that I like my colleagues a lot - even enough to stay out drinking till 1:30 am with them... but after that I was tired.  I picked up a cold which has now manifested into a lovely green chest infection and I am done with over- indulging.  Christmas for me has been a time of getting together with family, a fairly modest meal with my mum and dad and another one with the Rodgers clan before retiring gracefully into a coughing heap of flegm and relaxation from which I see little return over the next week.  I am, in a word, fooked.

It's greedy to imagine that any new me will continue.  I have had a new me all year. Courtesy of our lovely nhs service who perceptively diagnosed that for 24 years, the contraceptive pill has been ruining my health. Having escaped out of the other end of a near-miss illness I have been improving in ever-lasting cycles, not sure entirely how long it will last.  Turns out, until Christmas.

The cold has charmed its way into my chest and left it rumbling like a cauldron overflowing with the green stuff. Amazingly it is the first time I have been ill all winter which makes me happy, although I could have done with it holding off until after Ripley cyclocross and the nationals, quite nicely if you pretty please. But it's not worth me sweating it, I am ill and that is that. Please don't tell me I will be well rested because I just came out of a rest period. I am just going to be weedy and aerobically screwed when I come out of this. I think the national championship race is going to be about me finishing which, for the first time ever, will be an improvement on last year when my calf muscle locked into a tiny ball like a baby hedgehog and refused to come out, leaving me with a 1st time ever DNF.

So, looking forward short term is no fun. Looking forward longer term is indecisive still. It is difficult to get excited about committing to a long term goal while feeling like death on toast, when short, involuntary whimpers emit from my throat when I move. But a long distance bike rally in Southern Europe is somewhat driving my ambitions once I can get off the sofa.

I have read and explored more deeply into my yoga practice this year and am hungry to develop. Clarity, focus and meanings sneak into everyday corners of my life where before there was an empty void.

This is why I won't be looking forward in 2016. Last year I trained without planning it and I can't see next year being that much different.  I set out with two goals in mind - to have fun and to keep doing it.  I ended up within a whisker of an age grouper's place on team GB and incredibly proud of myself for doing so.  The cyclo-cross season has gone equally well with fifth and sixth place finishes in national events and I still feel there's so much more I have to offer... if I can just shake the flu.

So here it is, my one bout of belly-button gazing for 2015...

Remember when it used to snow in England in winter?  Well, Glyn Hopkins came out for a play in the snow with me.

After dining out on English snow we went to Austria for some more.

I think I hibernated in March but we had some nice sky.

As the days got lighter in April, I was on site in Kent and Bird-watching became a side-effect of my running addiction.

All that running put me in good stead for the surprisingly sunny Whinlatter Extreme Duathlon in April where an 18 mile MTB warm up was suddenly a real thing.

In May, the weather took a turn for the worse and whilst away with Norton Wheelers we took a beating in the hills in the pouring rain before retreating to the sanctity (if you can call it that) of High Force, before indulging in a rest-day of shopping and driving... what a pair of old biddies?

In May we said an emotional (two fingers salute) goodbye to the Vanu and hello to the tipi...

...which we used to its full effect.

The roads in Wales were kind to me for the Triathlon season

In July we experienced similar fair weather for excursions on bike, foot and in wetsuit around the Scottish Highlands.

August saw a visit from royalty

and I had the opportunity to race the Tri relays with this motley crew before the big race in September - the Bala Triathlon - took me to some proper mountain scenery after an indulgent few days of luxurious recovery.

My last happy rides with Phoenix before she retired from competitive cyclo-cross

At the end of September, I was very proud to make it onto the podium for the 3 Peaks cyclo-cross for all the wrong reasons.  My dad, riding his 40th race should have been decorated with some kind of medal so far as most of us were concerned.  However, the race organisers chose to ignore such an accomplishment and instead were forced to award us the second father-daughter prize, narrowly beating an 85 year old and his 50 year old daughter.

In October, Dirty Beast made it into my life.  

And a new programme of evening cyclo-cross and mountain bike rides started to make things happen in the racing world.

including the advent of husband-racing in our family.  Rapha, providing a brilliant event for us both to enjoy.

Yet in amongst the cyclo-cross, we took some time out and did a bit of roofbox-tipi-stove (this has totally become a thing) camping in the Lake District.

November also took us to the South East twice in two weeks to catch up with this fella in the dirty...

...and slightly cleaner, with his new wife in early December.

December, is not recognisable as such.

As I've written above, December has seen me faltering, clinging on to the last edges of the will to train, compete and repeat.  Recovery is getting slower, enthusiasm waning.  A symptom of my disease or it's cause? Who knows?  My running has suffered, my swimming clings on to the feathery edges of possible.  It is like I am suffering March's downfall early.  Maybe by coming out of it early, I'll be stronger next year but since we're not looking forwards, we are only concerned with today, let's not fret that.

Today I swam.  I swam a hearty 20 lengths of a 50m pool in rounds of 300m which, considering I've been swimming 200m rounds, I am happy with.  I was not entirely annihilated by the youth of Guildford, in fact I held my own in the fast lane.  My breathing held up OK, given that I didn't need to use my nose and no-one seemed to mind the orca-style distress calls which occasionally uttered from my lungs so eloquently, so involuntary. 

So, I return to finish this post with a renewed air of invincibility and jam-packed with insane ideas for 2016.

A happy new year to everyone.  I plan to spend mine nursing my breathing system, resting my body still further and hoping, above all hopes, that some muscle has grown out of the turkey dinner consumed heartily on Friday night.

Here's to springing Januarys

Christmas Day Ride

I can't remember the last time me and TSK went out for a ride together and the last time I got into double-figure miles in one road ride was October, or Mildenhall 200k in August, if you count over 20 miles as double-figures.

Talk about specialising.

I got pretty pissy with myself, climbing out of Sheffield on account of a roaring headwind and Andrew chewing at my back wheel or riding off in front, nothing in between.  It was my own fault, I was tired and hung over.  I eventually put him on the front when we got exposed across Moscar so a least I had the wind to slow him down and the draught to speed me up.

Going down to the Ladybower was satisfying though a little scary as I was riding my narrow timetrial wheel and tyres in my 'cross bike - lots of clearance on those brakes.  I only really needed them at the bottom and even then the lights were on green.

Headwind behind us and we rocketed through to Bamford where we sat on the benches around the tree in the centre of the village and ate our packed lunch and drank coffee from a flask.  Although it was cold I was OK wearing just baselayers, a fleece and my gilet.  This is possibly my new, improved cold resistance on account of all the weight I have gained.  It feels good.  Just as we started to get cold we set off again and soon warmed up on the tt section into Hathersage.

We turned right and headed over to Grindleford, enjoying the long straight alongside the swollen river and battling it out on some of the climbs.  TSK eventually surpassing my initial flight of fancy.  Then we were at the bridge and it was time to head home on the long climb up Froggat, which I churned out in my middle ring 42/28 ALL THE WAY TO THE TOP, including past the Fox House where yummy mummys unloaded their mammas and pappas-wrapped kids in time for dinner with granny served by some underpaid gurning student waiters.

Not many others out on the bikes but we said hello to a few.

The descent into Eccleshall was dreamy.  Out in the road, no traffic.  By now, most are eating their Christmas lunch in the mid afternoon.  No potholled bus lane for us.  The best of the tarmac.

We follow the road straight into town, up to Devonshire green where we sit to finish the last of our coffee with a bunch of international students drinking beer in the park.  I put on TSK's waterproof to keep the wind off and set off up to home.  Our toes are cold when we get in but it's a great excuse to sit down for more coffee (the last cup was only the size of an egg cup) and relax before cooking the beef.

Struggling & the Wonder of Dad. My 2014 pre-Three Peaks Blog.

Two weeks ago today I dropped a pedal car on my head at 21 miles per hour on a tarmac race track.  It wasn't my best day.

Given that I am taking the blood thinning drug, Rivoroxaban, and the fact that I broke my helmet, I had to go to A&E for a CT scan on my head to make sure I didn't have any small internal bleeds.  Small bleeds which in a normal body would usually sort themselves out in no time but in someone on blood thinning juice, could potentially spiral out of control, especially whilst tent camping overnight in the company of a bunch of boy scouts.

Not surprisingly I didn't enjoy the day in A&E and I spent my time mentally kicking myself for being so stupidly competitive (racing a 12 year old boy) and forgetting that I'm supposed to be taking it easy (racing moderately *is* my idea of taking it easy).

I have been very busy at work since then... very busy.  I have also been sleeping a lot - making up for poor nights sleep (because of the pain) by sleeping late and my body is recovering from the shock, fighting the infection that has flared up in my knee and making me sleep for a long time.  As a consequence I've been finding it hard to get out on my bike.  Even when I do have some time to go out, there's an emotional resistance, one which says, "best stay at home, you might crash and end up in A&E again".  I don't like this.

On Tuesday I went to the gym to do weights and then got home and sat on the turbo for an hour and I made it out off road on Wednesday night with a great bunch of people from Sheffield Triathlon Club.  They did my ego the power of good as I was helping them to learn some cyclo-cross techninques.  I also rode very gingerley yet at times very bravely considering my condition - and I was considering it.  It was always at the back of my mind as I bounced my skinny 'cross wheels down Rivelin Valley trails usually reserved for my mountain bike.  

I haven't been out on my bike since.  I do miss it but I am still tired and I admit to still being a little scared.

So yesterday I sat down and set myself some targets to achieve in between now and my major races this 'cross season and also next year's tri season.  I hope these intermediary hits will help me progress and give me the excuse I need to stop working every day and go and get some exercise at a reasonable hour of day (so that I can sleep at night).

For now though, I am staring down the barrel of the 3 Peaks Cyclo-cross on (what feels like) very little appropriate training.  It's over 3 months since Celtman and my diagnosis so that's my endurance in the can and with 2 weeks off because of my pedal car crash, I think my dad will be hauling me around by the bib shorts braces, not the other way around.  

Dad's been training as only he knows how (long and steady) and I think he's a wonderful 65 year old.  In fact, he's not allowed to be 65!  Every week he listens to me whine about my condition.  Every week he is resolutely confident about his ability to finish this year's race.  At least I know where I get my optimism from.

So I am heading out this weekend to do two cyclo-crosses in two days.  That is my contribution to endurance and fitness combined. Regardless of what motivational state of mind I am in, there is one thing that makes it easy to look forwards to next weekend and it's this...

(though I'm hoping there won't be any snow next weekend)