More off

My off has gotten more off.

No big plans now.  Getting out of bed before 7:30am and getting to yoga was a major achievement this morning.  I've tried to go running twice but now accept that it is not a possibility.

It is time to accept that this is a hard rest week.

40 miles on Sunday completely wiped me out again.  I had some good hard runs at the odd hill here and there but there was nothing left again on Monday.

The rest is working its magic gradually.

I'm being strong and patient but I am so wiped out, that's not difficult. 

I'm less moody than I've ever been on a rest period because I know I really need it.  Because I am not feeling guilty about not doing one of three sports.  Because I know I tried so hard that rest is not an excuse it is a necessity and because I don't want to tip myself over the edge.

I'm falling asleep writing this so it is really time to go to bed.

Snow

It's been a wonderful snowy week of battling my way to work through the fluffy stuff - with a little battling my way home through the ice on Friday.

It's left me exhausted but has been an excellent exercise in just gettin up and doing it all again.

On Wednesday I accidentally overshot and kept riding.  On Thursday I extended again but rode home the quick way and on Friday I stuck to the edge of the ice alongside the shelter of buildings to find all the available concrete and then rode home down the roads to get in quick in time for tea - but then it was 10 pm.

It has been an insane week.

I have rested this weekend.  I haven't touched a bike except to maintain them and I went outside only to walk to the pub and drink too many beers - 2 is too many nowadays.

TSK and I talked about our plans for the Dean in 2 weeks time and we decided to ride it separately so that he can enjoy it without waiting for me and I can get much out of it as a solo ride without coat-tailing and I can pace myself how I want.

It's nice that we're both excited about something that we can share.

I have tried not to feel guilty this weekend and have succeeded.  It was a planned rest week and I am ignoring the fact that I only achieved 30% of my target last week and calling this an actual rest week.  Besides all those snowy miles are worth double.  I hope it will encourage some strength to come through since I stupidly entered the Mag 7 which is next weekend.  No time to train or plan for it.  I just have to go out and ride and it's in Bradfield so I am dreading it but my FOMO means I have entered and I hope I will enjoy it as much as I did last year. 

A "fun" warm up for the 300.

A complicated rest weekend has just begun.

It's a while since I've been here.

I've been busy.

I deserve a rest week as I've had three consecutive big weeks rides / races.

The sofa is the right place for me today except for a little clean of the bike which is also an important feat.

I felt a little dark about it yesterday, knowing that there's no way I'm going to hit this week's target (scheduling got weird and I did a 200 on my rest week so this rest week is not a scheduled one).

I've spent the morning reading inspirational work of women cyclists.

I've decided to rest the hell out of this weekend and resume next week (warmer) with early morning rides, long rides home from work and setting some rules around the hours I'm working - again.  Yesterday I hired a new guy.  Me.  I chose him.  We seem to get on well.  Things are looking good.

So I should be leaving the office on time again.

I'm also motivated to use the gym.  Yoga is all well and good but I need to start building the strength again.  Not just re-establishing what I had but building it beyond into what I used to have when I was 21.  I'm going to step away from the free weights, hit the machines, be that annoying twit who rests on machines and bash out some more serious weights going forwards.

To supplement all this optimism, I have just written a note in my diary to keep a look out for the HT550 entries for 2019 opening.  Not that I'm enjoying what I'm doing this year or anything.

Sunday will see a turbo session during which I split the rim on my rear tyre 40 seconds in, persevere and continue after lunch to belt out 21 hard miles.  The rest of the day pales into insignificance due to the glow of my achievement but also the depression that I did not ride this week.  Then I remember: I did not want to crash in ice and snow and I've ridden hard through 2 rest weeks and done in excess of 200k in three weekends out of 4.  I fucking deserve this rest week and I will start next week stronger because of it.

Full on faff riding

It's been a rest week this week - possibly the only true rest week in my entire training schedule between now and June.  For some reason I planned only one ride to work this week.  So already I have exceeded my expectations as when I wrote the plan, I mustn't have been able to conceive completing the last three weeks without wanting a complete break this week.

It was a tough rest week.

The last clutches of summer outside the yoga studio

I cycled to Yoga on Tuesday and then reverted to the car on Wednesday to head out to Worksop in the evening for a massage.  That got moved to Thursday and to be honest, I was tired enough to relish in the opportunity to take two days driving to work on my much-needed rest week.

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

Birthday Post 2016

Saturday - Birthday

After weeks of improving and sailing through life, I finally came to a grinding halt this week.  The arrival of the flu / cold virus to our offices wiped me out for the week but somehow I managed to keep working... I didn't push myself to.  If I couldn't work, I wouldn't have but the cold wasn't that bad.  So I worked - I just drove everywhere and my only exercise was a swim on Monday, yoga on Tuesday and a day walking around site on Wednesday.

I have also been suffering a gammy knee.  A sharp, shooting pain when I descend stairs - or climb them for that matter.  On its own it's not stopped me running but it will do soon - once the cold has gone.  I nursed it through yoga practice (probably shouldn't have) and tried to be careful with it on site.

By Friday I felt better but I was still snotty.  I could breathe OK but when I bent down to tie my shoelaces, pain seared through my head, teeth, face and neck and I got dizzy.  Sinuses blocked.  I took it easy for my Birthday.  Went to some shops, had lunch, came home to "make the house less depressing".  Most people call it cleaning but I leave that so long it becomes, "making the house less depressing".  It takes the process of cleaning from Chore to Pleasant Experience by making it so direly urgent.

It lasted about 20 minutes before I decided I wanted to clean my mountain bike before it got dark and then work on it and then it was all, like, dinner time and time to go to the cinema to watch, "The Eagle Huntress" which is a beautiful film about a teenage girl in Mongolia that breaks down boundaries doing what she loves.  Gorgeous cinematography and story-telling.

We walked there and back - more exercise I guess.  It was a beautiful day.  Not 100% what I was hoping for but the best of a sick me. Last year I went for a Bad Run on my Birthday - though it was rather nice, it was shorter than intended and slower than everyone I know.  Looks like I'm starting from the same place this year.

I feel like I should write something profound and another-yearly but birthdays are just days really.  As decades go, I suspect it's better than my 23rd and definitely better than my 33rd.

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday

Cold remedy, eat, work, paracetamol, reading, sleep (a lot), repeat.

On the plus side I am reading Jill Homer so it's getting me excited for months to come on the bike.

Tuesday - Yoga

I hate myself.  I knew I was getting sick but I went to yoga anyway.  My last chance at a strength session this week since Thursday morning was being stolen for a meeting.  Decided to do a strength set before the cold set in properly and took me off my feet.  So glad I did in retrospect.  The cold is taking longer to clear than I thought it would.

Yoga was tough because I forced my sore knee to play along.  In retrospect I made it worse.  Shit happens.

Monday - Swim - 1.1km 28 minutes - 25:28 moving

I didn't feel horrible on Monday until later so I went to the pool on my bike.  It's a little demoralising stripping off all the layers you've just put on after only 6 minutes of riding but enjoyable putting them all back on before stepping out into December air with damp hair.

I did sets of 6 with short rests of less than 30 seconds between.  Although I felt like I stopped early, I'm happy with how I felt, the time it took and my swimming in general after 2 weeks off allowing a twinged right wrist to calm down.

Hopefully I'll be back to a mile before I know it.  Whilst I was being passed by the fast girls, I was close to being able to sit on feet so I'm getting there.

Ripper

Ripped into work yesterday at high speed and then much to my amazement, managed to do the same home.  Rode up the hill in the middle ring - something I've never done - collecting a high five from a team mate running down the hill the other way.

What an evening!

Alarm went off this morning for a run to work but I couldn't get up until 1hr 40 minutes later.

Sometimes your body gives you no option but to listen.

RIP ITER Posting

Seems my new-found work Zen was exceptionally short lived.  It's unclear as yet what has happened but I am no longer required in the South of France for 3 months.

Whilst this may, initially seem like a bit of a blow, I am infact completely non-plussed about the whole affair.  Of course I am worried that with such a short turn around, I have somehow pissed someone off.  The project manager seems hurt - he was hoping to make the expenses I have spent over the last few days back based on the imense ammount of money they were charging for me, so it's not him I've enraged.  The local man seems to just refer me back to my Rotherham boss and he is not taking my calls or answering my emails.  So I wait to find out what the score is when he returns to the office.  I know he was expecting much more work to come out of France and back to Rotherham but as resources in France have mounted up, this isn't the case so perhaps he just wants one of his peeps back.

Has my new resistance to putting myself out, refusing to travel half way across Europe when tired, upset someone?  Maybe.  I don't really mind.  I'm sorry this whole affair has overlapped an important project.  I'm glad I'm not there, all tired.  Quite frankly, I'm glad the panic of the century is no longer my project.

This changeover has made me realise that my own personal USP (ultimate selling point) has to change.  I no longer want to be the one to deliver the panic du jour.  I will be the organised one who does everything to time and makes sure it runs smoothly.  Not the catch-up queen.

I spent Thursday evening unpacking my bike from it's box and reassembling it.  The non-move did at least give me the opportunity to clean my bike properly.

On Friday morning I got up at 6:30 especially to put the finishing touches to it (put the rack on) and rode to work.  It was dead on 9am when I arrived, having hunted down various keys and things that I'd put away for another day.  My legs were still a little bit fucked but the flat start to the ride helped me feel happier and the hills at the end of the ride gave me a proper stretch out despite the fact that I was riding in bottom gear on the little ring.

At 3pm, TSK phoned to say his overdue balloon ride was off and so he came to pick me up from work to ride out to a country pub.  We had a few debates on the way as to which way to go.  Eventually headed for Firbeck which is one of my favourite flatlands rural villages.  We didn't think there was a pub there but decided to make it up as we went along.

Just as we rode through Firbeck, TSK commented, "There should be a pub here" and like an outspoken wish, the Black Lion appeared on a sweeping bend.  Perfect cyclists pub.  Plenty of spaces for bikes, really nice food.

A big portion of pork belly should help with the muscle restoration.

Saturday morning, a recovery run to the Royal Mail to pick up spiky balls to masage my scabby muscles with.

The perfect start to the restorative process that is a change in jobs.

Post Helvellyn. The way forward. The next year.

That's it for dumb training.

I really managed to smarten-up when I took up road racing on the bike. I suppose it was only one sport to think about but I am still learning with tri.
 
After this weekend I was very ill due to nothing more than sheer exhaustion and bad nutrition. I can only imagine I let my body get so drained on the last 3 miles that all of the toxins in my body took over and I had no energy or gut left to fight them with. Although the yogurt was the only thing that made me throw up yesterday, it also seemed to be the one thing that eventually restored me to normal function.
 
In short I can not let myself get in this mess again.
 
On a mental front I have been working with a counsellor to understand why I clench my jaw. My voyage of discovery about the choices I make has been interesting. I have realised that promising the earth to everyone and not delivering is only going to make me anxious and so I have to set limits and stick to them, or at least choose my own exceptions.

I have come to realise that when I try to do everything and please everyone that it doesn't work. I end up tired and I do things wrong and end up making things worse. I might please someone but it's not always me.

So now I have started doing things for me. I've started doing what's best for me. I've changed work plans to give myself more time and this week when I became ill, I changed the date I will return to France.
 
It's empowering. Sure I feel bad for letting them down when they were expecting me but I know now that when I arrive there rested I can achieve so much more and they won't ground to a halt without me.
 
It's taken me all day today to pack my bike away in a box ready for shipping out to France. It could take me all day tomorrow to put all my laundry away from my holidays and pack for going back to France.

That leaves me one day to work here and well, if I travel Friday, I might as well make it Sunday and have the weekend with TSK. How happy I will then be when I return to France knowing it's only two weeks until we're back together?
 
Now that my brain is restored to normal after Helvellyn (really?) I am taking 3 weeks out to chill before the 3Peaks. I'll do some race specific training if I feel up to it but this year I'm just coming back to take part.
 
This time of year I'm usually excited about it but this year I don't mind. I'm looking forwards to seeing my friends and doing the outdoorsy bit but I'm happy enough just to hang out and actually get back to France in one piece this time.  Perhaps I'll ride with my dad for a bit.


Beyond 3 Peaks (rest)prep I get to embark on the fun task of planning next years season and this year I intend to make a proper job of it, not the half hearted run-swim-bike plan of last year.
 
Sometimes I feel like I'm over doing it with planning in minute detail because plans always get blown out the window with me.  I hope my new disciplined approach to time and effort management will make things work out and help me to stick to the plan for once.  I've been moderately disciplined this year - next year will be better.  Sheffield Tri have given me enough training tools to get through the next 3 months and when I'm back in the fold it will be perfect timing for finishing 2011 and getting started on spring.

Must remember to plan for those all important trips down to London in 2012 to watch the best in the world at work.

Pre-race Resting

Resting is bliss when there's no excuses. I have less than 1 week to go before the day in the lakes half ironman. Yesterday I spent all day fixing up my bike (I still have to ride it to make sure it's ok) today I jogged around the trunce. I wasn't going to do it at all but the weather was so lovely and I felt inclined to encourage my young colleague to keep going along.

I literally jogged up the hills, even walked down some with the more timid folks nearer to the back than I'm used to.

I walked the last climb as much as I could but my legs were crying out for some short sharp steps so I darted round the side and ran past a few who passed me back as I jogged down the last descent to the finish.

I wasn't going to damage my legs on any frivolous downhill sprints tonight oh no. As instructed, my understudy, Robin, jogged with me to the car, from where we dashed off to the station so I could catch the 20.23 to Cheltenham for 2 days of meetings starting tomorrow.

Life is too short at this speed. Resting is fun.

Rest day

Just working. Nothing more. A day of no excercise offset by working really hard. My brain is spinning from standards that refer to standards that refer back to the original standard. I have answers and I am proud of myself. I can go back to excercise tomorrow.

Easter Snoozeday

After Andrew's day off photographing, he went off for a ride leaving me to enjoy knitting, the internet and searching for an open food shop.

The Evil Power of Rest

You feel rubbish. You need a day off. In the morning it feels like a great idea and a good excuse to do what you like including nothing. You still take running gear in case you feel like it later. By lunchtime you look whistfully at the bag. You know you want to but you just don't want to so you just eat.

You get home from work thinking that you could do some spinning on the bike because it doesn't involve going outside. You acknowledge you're grumpy and must be tired so you don't do spinning.

You regress to doing nothing. You make dinner. Despite your best resolve to get an early night you get stuck into a 1990 's film you still haven't seen and snap at the one you love because you're tired and you've wasted all this time today and you won't give yourself a break.

You stay up later to wait for the washing machine to end it's cycle because you feel guilty about being snicketty and don't want to be left awake with your angry feelings of inadequacies and a day devoid of any real exertion to tire you out and yet you're oh so tired.

Sometimes I hate rest days.

The Power of Rest

Off excercise with a cold for two whole days. One spent feeling rubbish followed by a restful day at home with a computer on my knee and a hanky by my side.

One run on Saturday just before lunch after a long lie-in.

The 8th fastest run I've done (out of 21 samples) and the only thing I was trying to do was to keep my heart rate slow.

On the flip side, today my head is full of green stuff. TSK does not need to take this out for a ride.

Rest and achieve

Blog - first official rest day. By that, I mean the first day I can put my hand on heart, say I've done 3 good days training now I get a day off.

Ok so I ruined it with a 3.5 hour drive but at at least I'm making up for it by going to bed at 8.30. What follows for my reward is glorious adaptation.

I set out to try to achieve my 6.5km run target for this week and manage 10km instead.

I found it a real bonus to wear my watch to run as my Garmin, tucked away go my bag or a pocket is such a faff to look at. At least as I time my run I know roughly how far I have been. The first 10minutes to the lane. 37 minutes to the tiny hamlet of Blinknoll must be 5km but I've messed about taking a picture so call it 4.5. 45 minutes to the canal and some muddy patches but my legs feel like they could go on for ever. It's an hour by the time I reach the end of the canal and I run up the last bit of trail to the road into Wootton Bassett.

I must be over 6.5km. I check with the Garmin and I'm so tantalisingly close to 10km (9.24) I decide I can definitely manage 0.5km more. I'm not doing that well as I've muddled minutes and decimals, expecting the distance to click over to 10km when it hits 9.6. Thankfully I realise my mistake and stop the Garmin at 10.12km outside the newsagents where I go to buy a tri mag to get me through the rest of Friday and the weekend without my bike, swim kit or a tv. I am over the moon. Apart from the usual aches and pains associated with me running for am hour I've had no muscle or joint pain and only the slight threat of a blister on the new insoles.

I'm not in the right socks. Most of all I really enjoyed this run. I made it a long one by not going too fast, not adding unplanned hills (largely because it got too boggy and I was enjoying myself too much to get wet feet) and taking care to move my running onto my toes... Or at least my midfoot. I feel like I have again waved goodbye to the person who used to say, "running doesn't get any easier, I just go further and faster". That was an easy run. Ok, it was longer than expected but I did some shopping in Bassett and even managed a shuffle home. I sincerely hope good times are here to stay.
Route.