Saturday, January 03, 2009
It's a hard life being an emo cat
Gaffer was asleep in Ede's spot on the sofa when I left for the gym at 7.45 this morning and is still there now at 11.45. At some stage he'll wake up and start demanding cuddles or food (or both) but right now I'm enjoying the peace.
I was planning to ride today but watching the weather reporter on TV3 last night struggling to stand upright with Freyberg in the background it occurred to me that I didn't really have a death wish! Wellington is in the grip of gale Northerlies again and a wind warning was in place. So RPM it was. I booked into two-in-a-row and hauled myself out of bed and through a drizzly, blustery morning off to Extreme.
I felt good in RPM yesterday, like my bike fitness was returning, so was keen to see how I felt today and, sure enough, I had two really good classes. Things didn't start terribly well - I managed to break the bike I was riding when I stood for the first hill during Track 2. Something to do with the chain, apparently. The bike next to me was free so I quickly swapped and by the time Track 3 kicked in I was good to go.
From there on in I went into the zone - the zone that I've been struggling so hard to find during my recent rides and runs. The strength was there in my legs and the pain was meaningless and the sweat ran in rivers down my arms and from my face and I just went for it regardless. I kept thinking about the 150km ride I have coming up in a few weeks and kept reaching for the dial. I guess it says something about how much time I've spent on a spin bike over the years that I can reach down and turn it up without opening my eyes!
So now it's over and I'm stretched out on the sofa while outside the wind blows and the grey skies weigh heavily on the Orongarongas. It's a good day to be inside with a stack of books and DVDs.
I've been thinking about the things I learned in 2008. I learned a little bit more about balance and perspective. I learned not to keep training through an injury! I became a cyclist. At the start of this year riding clipless terrified me and now I can ride through the centre of town in rush hour and feel what might pass as a frisson of excitement! I became addicted to racing. I stopped stressing out about performance so much and in the process stopped having nausea problems mid-run. I learned how to eat to fuel my activities and stopped being terrified that I was going to put all that weight back on again. I actually started to see myself at the size I was and was finally able to walk into a store and not take something off the rack that was two sizes too large for me. I started thinking like an athlete and believing that I was one and that line of thought took me to the point of deciding to do the Rotorua half-Ironman this year (oh, and the Rotorua Marathon).
It was a pretty good year really and deserves its own wrap-up post. Right now however I think Hamish is in the kitchen cooking pancakes, and I'm starving!