A week or so on from the last post and not much has happened.
The failure of the 13mile South Downs ride has resulted in a sulk of epic proportions. I decided I hated cycling, which is probably not the best stand point for an incompetent cyclist to take only 8 weeks away from the 100. Training has become a shackle, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays are now right offs because of training. I have dutifully gone to spin sessions but take little joy in them. I think they are paying off though. Whilst I am by far still the redist participant in the room - even my legs go a strange crimson colour - I can now breath through out most of the session. I'm finding that I can generally keep up with the drills and my recovery is getting faster. Annoyingly this means I need to keep going.
In my sulk I decided to refuse to cycle last weekend. In typical Tor and Nick fashion this was the one weekend Nick seemed to actually want to take me out for a training ride. Despite numerous attempts to coax me onto my bike we ended up spending Saturday punting down the canals of Oxford drinking wine, eating chocolate and listening to Opera. I have to say this is FAR better than haling myself up hills and having panic attacks. I suppose we did take the tandem into town, so my legs did some work, but probably not enough to counter the whole rack of ribs I binge ate that evening. It was very much an anti-training weekend.
But good things can't last forever and the mini-break from training needs to stop. This week I have not been as dutiful, but more because life has got in the way rather than actively avoiding training.
I took Monday off work to help a friend with her PHD in neuroscience. This was also a valued opportunity to see what is left of my pre-frontal cortex after the horse riding accident. As I haven't heard anything to the contrary I can only assume my brain is still in tact, more or less. Anyway, as I had the whole day off work it meant I could cycle to Clandon in the afternoon when there are fewer cars out to kill me. This is the problem with cycling around Guildford. People actually WANT to kill you. The route to Clandon does have cycle paths, but due to a lack of for sight in road planning the cycle lanes actually leave the roads too narrow to use. The net result is that drivers drive with there wheels on the cycle lane line and smack you with their wing mirrors. Fun. Guildford planners also like to lure you into a false sense of security with said cycle routes and then end them at precisely the moment you need them - like the Stoke interchange! I can tell you from terrifying past experience that Ladymead is exactly where you don't want to be on a Friday rush hour on a Brompton. The terror. Anyway as it was, the cycle to Clandon on the Brompton was actually quite pleasant (I took the Brompton as I didn't want to have to deal with SPD fails). The sun was out and all the spin classes meant that I could cycle there without getting out of breath. The cycle back was slightly more fraught as I got caught up in school collection hell, but the Chelsea tractors could get enough speed up to kill me in the grid lock, which I took as a bonus.
Tuesday spinning was cancelled because relatives were over from France and I wanted to see them. I think that is a legitimate excuse.
Wednesday I went to the later spin class after horse riding. It was lead by the nice young fitness instructor. I don't think he is a cyclist. He wears loose over-shorts to cover his dignity - something a real cyclist would never spare you. I real cyclist shaves his legs and displays with great pride which side he is hanging. I swear I was nearly hypnotised by one spin instructors tackle as it bobbed left/right/left/right for the hour. Had he been shouting different instructions I could have left that spin session believing I was a chicken. Anyway, nice young fitness instructor makes up for his lack of cycling knowledge with good tunes. I just phase out his weird leaning instructions and bizarre warm down.
Thursday was spent eating Chinese take away. OK I probably could should have gone to a spin class. Which just leaves today, which is looking jam packed with looking after 3 horses, a fiancé, and seeing my sister as she is over from Belgium.
This weekend I will do better though. I plan on doing a sportive on Sunday which will hopefully help me with my confidence on my road bike as well as build up that elusive extra knee (the weird muscle cyclists get above their actual knee). I'm going to try and see how fast I can cycle 40 miles. Place your bets now.
The failure of the 13mile South Downs ride has resulted in a sulk of epic proportions. I decided I hated cycling, which is probably not the best stand point for an incompetent cyclist to take only 8 weeks away from the 100. Training has become a shackle, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays are now right offs because of training. I have dutifully gone to spin sessions but take little joy in them. I think they are paying off though. Whilst I am by far still the redist participant in the room - even my legs go a strange crimson colour - I can now breath through out most of the session. I'm finding that I can generally keep up with the drills and my recovery is getting faster. Annoyingly this means I need to keep going.
In my sulk I decided to refuse to cycle last weekend. In typical Tor and Nick fashion this was the one weekend Nick seemed to actually want to take me out for a training ride. Despite numerous attempts to coax me onto my bike we ended up spending Saturday punting down the canals of Oxford drinking wine, eating chocolate and listening to Opera. I have to say this is FAR better than haling myself up hills and having panic attacks. I suppose we did take the tandem into town, so my legs did some work, but probably not enough to counter the whole rack of ribs I binge ate that evening. It was very much an anti-training weekend.
But good things can't last forever and the mini-break from training needs to stop. This week I have not been as dutiful, but more because life has got in the way rather than actively avoiding training.
I took Monday off work to help a friend with her PHD in neuroscience. This was also a valued opportunity to see what is left of my pre-frontal cortex after the horse riding accident. As I haven't heard anything to the contrary I can only assume my brain is still in tact, more or less. Anyway, as I had the whole day off work it meant I could cycle to Clandon in the afternoon when there are fewer cars out to kill me. This is the problem with cycling around Guildford. People actually WANT to kill you. The route to Clandon does have cycle paths, but due to a lack of for sight in road planning the cycle lanes actually leave the roads too narrow to use. The net result is that drivers drive with there wheels on the cycle lane line and smack you with their wing mirrors. Fun. Guildford planners also like to lure you into a false sense of security with said cycle routes and then end them at precisely the moment you need them - like the Stoke interchange! I can tell you from terrifying past experience that Ladymead is exactly where you don't want to be on a Friday rush hour on a Brompton. The terror. Anyway as it was, the cycle to Clandon on the Brompton was actually quite pleasant (I took the Brompton as I didn't want to have to deal with SPD fails). The sun was out and all the spin classes meant that I could cycle there without getting out of breath. The cycle back was slightly more fraught as I got caught up in school collection hell, but the Chelsea tractors could get enough speed up to kill me in the grid lock, which I took as a bonus.
Tuesday spinning was cancelled because relatives were over from France and I wanted to see them. I think that is a legitimate excuse.
Wednesday I went to the later spin class after horse riding. It was lead by the nice young fitness instructor. I don't think he is a cyclist. He wears loose over-shorts to cover his dignity - something a real cyclist would never spare you. I real cyclist shaves his legs and displays with great pride which side he is hanging. I swear I was nearly hypnotised by one spin instructors tackle as it bobbed left/right/left/right for the hour. Had he been shouting different instructions I could have left that spin session believing I was a chicken. Anyway, nice young fitness instructor makes up for his lack of cycling knowledge with good tunes. I just phase out his weird leaning instructions and bizarre warm down.
Thursday was spent eating Chinese take away. OK I probably could should have gone to a spin class. Which just leaves today, which is looking jam packed with looking after 3 horses, a fiancé, and seeing my sister as she is over from Belgium.
This weekend I will do better though. I plan on doing a sportive on Sunday which will hopefully help me with my confidence on my road bike as well as build up that elusive extra knee (the weird muscle cyclists get above their actual knee). I'm going to try and see how fast I can cycle 40 miles. Place your bets now.
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