I think the phase of panic has set in. Way back ago when Blair slightly tongue in cheek suggested that I may as well race Nationals the end point was so far in the distance it wasn't even real. The calm and nonchalant manner in which BT verbalised his suggestion was clever. Not a hint of how ridiculous the notion was. No more excitement or anticipation than you would expect if he were asking for pizza. I bought the pizza, pineapple and all. Four weeks ago was a veritable lifetime away from where I sit now. That's ages, any fool can get fit enough for this. Not this fool it seems.
Now we are on a very specific time frame of how it is all going to unfold. It is 5 weeks. 4 weeks, 6 days to be exact, not that I am counting. Interjected in this is two more 'preparation' races, the Hamilton Open and Waikato/Bay of Plenty centre champs. Both of these events are going to rip my legs off and beat me to death with them. Can't wait. Crucially though is that there is now a conundrum. Do I rest a little for the week before these two races to allow this highly under prepared machine rest and repair a little? But that cuts into how many days I can train hard to try and gain the fitness and strength I will need to splutter over the line come 18 April. Turns out I don't actually have a say in it.
It has come up in conversation over the last couple of weeks that indeed my program may need modifying to accommodate the fact that I am an old female beginner. Gary confessed over coffee that he's not sure how to deal with this mix of metrics as a coach, it is not something he has encountered before. And I am proud of how I am giving him the rare and precious opportunity to work with such a unique specimen. Surely this gift I am offering will further his drive to secure many more clients of this level of potential to his repertoire. One day he will understand what I am doing for him. For now he's wondering what I am doing to him. Perception is one of his many talents, and try as I might with various strategies including but not limited to avoiding eye contact and enthusiastic assurances that I am crushing my program he knows when I am not. Adjustments have to be made. I hate that. I want to be able to train like him. Failure doesn't sit well with me. I feel pathetic. Weak. Some days I carry that around with me. Why do our minds and bodies not always collude in synchrony to just get along and play nicely?
But is it failure? Or realignment?
I had a couple of hours of self discovery, loathing and acceptance on Sunday. Armed with my already pared down to allow for patheticness ride prescription I set out for two laps of a local hill climb. Um, hello legs. What's the story? There was NOTHING. Try as I might to get over myself there was no chance of getting any sort of effort out of them. I had to abort mission after one lap of literally crawling along the road. Ok lets compromise. No more climbing but you certainly are not giving up and going home to eat hot cross buns. I was given a stern talking to by Miss Stubborn and blindly headed in the opposite direction of the sanctuary of a hot shower and coffee. Luckily for me the weather was spectacular because what ensued was bitter enough in itself. There are terms of phrase used amongst those in the know. Popular ones are hitting a wall, digging a hole and bonking. In any other sphere these are standard activities, but in cycling lingo, none of these are desirable. Guaranteed to end badly. Terms used to describe a time and place where the body takes charge and shuts down operations. Nope. Not doing it. No more physical activity shall take place. Well clever old me managed to do all three together. And what a place to be. Every fibre of me had to be recruited to firstly not phone for someone to pick me up and secondly to get this broken body home.
This was me being told I need a rest. Grrrrrr.
Something I am a strong believer in is listening to your own body. It is part of what I practice in nutrition, as a mum and normally sensible person, yet I find it so hard to apply to myself. As it is turning out, my lapse of undeniable strength and power has come at the perfect time. A lesson in self care and kindness delivered with precision. Now I can get through my easy week before Hamilton knowing full well that if I don't do what I am told I shall pay for it handsomely. By now I am sure that every one is aware of a pattern of mine. I bite off more than I can chew, then get all bent out of shape when it is not going my way. What do I expect? Goal setting is easy enough. Adapting and tinkering with the processes required to reach the goal is the difficult part. Yet this process is what produces growth, resilience and ultimately achievement. And these achievements need to be measured incrementally. There is no end in goals I believe, they wax and wane through life, and probably will never be a fixed point. There has been a lot of incremental improvement in this wee journey of mine. And if I can achieve small things while being blessed with ability that is modest at best and realistically non existent then I have no doubt in my mind that each and every soul out there is capable of extraordinary things.
So this week I shall set forth in readiness for the roads of Waiterimu. And beyond, as Buzz Lightyear so eloquently put it. Again I thank any one who is sticking it out with me as I am telling all and sundry what is going on. Surely by now you all know full well that any references by me about my undeniable power and supreme athleticism are all made up in my mind. Please let me laugh at myself, otherwise I will cry. Thank you all again, the friends and connections I have made during this passage mean the world to me and I truly am grateful and sincerely humbled. Take care all and may the watts be with you.
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