Honestly I can't believe a whole week has passed since the last publication of documentation of my journey through a seemingly futile and increasingly more unachievable search of success. This time last week I was wallowing in a luke warm bath of self pity and despair. I had a solid understanding of how the Italians felt when Luna Rossa Prada Pirelli fell off her foils and was left helplessly bellied out in the Hauraki Gulf waddling around off course and in the wrong direction while the competition and dream of glory literally flew off in the other direction. The dream is over. Not good enough, not strong enough.
Stop sulking. You brat. Nobody died. Well maybe a little bit of me that day, but there's enough left of me to carry on. And there is no one who can change it or do any thing about other than me. So I have a choice. Quit, or scrabble my way out of the hole I am in and clamber over the wall in front of me. Ten points for guessing which option was selected? With dirt under my nails and hair that looks as though I had a fight with a hedge and lost, I clawed my to the warmth of daylight at ground level. Come to think of it, that is how I am in reality as well as metaphorically so nothing new to report here.
A positive to take into the week is that it was a scheduled easy week, so there was no instructions on my Training Peaks to venture into the shadows of Threshold, Vo2 or Neuromuscular ranges. These words look flash, and it is a science of sport that is incredibly interesting, when I am reading about it. When applied to me, it is simple to explain how it works. Nasty. Down right evil. I am heard spouting often that you can't read emotion in a typed message, be it text or email. My calendar on the program is an exception to this rule. The laptop throws it head back and bellows a "mwahahahaha" just as you'd expect from a mad scientist or murderous villain in a D grade movie. Yay for me that this week my laptop sat passively on my lap and suggested that a spin would be the order of the day. Music to my eyes. Spinning is a cyclists favourite bail out clause.
But with that comes a pang of anxiety. How can doing less training possibly improve my clearly inadequate stamina and fitness? But at the risk of breaking a habit of a life time I will do what I am told. With slightly held breath and some trepidation of what may unfold over the next hour (ish) and the beeps of encouragement from the Wahoo as it turned on and sorted itself out I rode. Remember, circles work best so that was all I thought about for a while. But it seemed OK, and the ride was thoroughly enjoyable.
The power of recovery is an incredible part of active training. It is something that is difficult to accept at times, for any one I am sure. Along with good nutrition, check. Good sleep, working on that one, can't rush these things. Doing less to gain more is so hard to do, it flies in the face of discipline and structure, yet it is a discipline in itself. Maybe it is a concept we all need to adopt. Deliberately plan to do nothing. Not once a year when you go on holiday, but regularly. Maybe once a month, just clear the diary of all things and do as little as you can get away with, wouldn't that be nice? It isn't being lazy, quite the opposite. It is self care, and when we care for ourselves we are better equipped to care for those around us.
Before long, the morning of my next phase of integration into the pro peloton dawned, foggy and with a definite bite of autumn. Begrudgingly Gary and I had packed the ute the night before. Both bikes clean and sporting fancy new tyres on the race wheels. That in itself is another story altogether, just another test on patience and perserverance. As I sit here I smile to myself just how lucky I am. And I am stuck on how to articulate what I am trying to say. Other than I am the luckiest girl on the planet to have such an amazing man by my side to support, coach, guide and enable me to do every thing I do.
Sorry, back to the story. OK. Once we had eaten, coffeed up, stretched, dressed and gathered our belongings, we picked up Gary's nephew Kyle and headed off. What struck me was how not nervous I was, until we got there. And drove the circuit. What on heavens name do I think I am doing? The course was flat......apart from the bits that went up hill, which was the majority of the circuit. Mostly uphill, with a little down hill. Not flat, anywhere. This is going to hurt, and my octopus impressions are going to be on display in full flight. Cue stomach churning and slight light headedness. Numerous nervous pee stops ensued. But I was itching and impatient to get out there. Again, just as in my first race, as soon as the flag dropped and we were racing, I loved it. The adrenaline metered with thinking and planning where to be within the group is addictive. Another thing struck me. I was strong enough. I AM strong enough. When the pace went on, I could follow. I rode pretty well I think, even having a go at an attack within the last 6km. We were racing in a mixed bunch, so there was a race within the race, for the women. Come the last climb to the line I poured all I had into that last minute of the 2 plus hour race. Remember you uncoordinated octopus, push with your legs, pull with your arms, chest up, but stay forward. Stay relaxed but use every muscle in your body. Don't get messy, but mongrel the bike. It all came to this. Don't you dare let yourself or Gary down now. Some how, some way, this sea creature from the deep hauled her frame up the last climb and made it to the finish. In 7th place, again. But, first place in the women's division. I actually won a race. What a difference a week makes. In that moment of rolling down the other side of the hill was a feeling of relief, and dare I say it, pride. This roller coaster of physical and emotional highs and lows has fruited a reward. I know it isn't a big thing to any one else, and hardly the World Champs, maybe that's next year's challenge? (kidding). I share this miniscule win with every one of you out there who has sent me a message of support, and letting me share my journey with you. I waffle on but to me, your interest in my undoing gives me strength and I owe it to all of you to go on from here and do my best going into Nationals. This week will be hard, no back off in training, and with a tougher race on Sunday, I expect I will be scraping the barrel of fatigue this time next week.
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