So, the training is going well. The miles are ramping up, slowly but steadily. Still with plenty of strength work, stretching and some speed sessions. I'm doing something everyday. The knee is holding up (although there's an annoying ache which seems to come and go unexpectedly, and not related to what the session before had in stock). I've got some new friends to help guide me though: I look a right muppet carrying these poles around but they're light, sturdy and help take the load from my knees on hills and provide some forwards propulsion on the flat. When running 1030 miles I've got to be efficient with the load on my legs by spreading the forces around the rest of my body as much as I can. The clip is for some gloves to hook into, by the way. I can't decide if they remind me of Beaker or a rooster? . See if you can spot the odd one out from the selfies below. One's taken on an early run on Christmas Day, before the t...
I don't want to get political. But I've been turning left for quite some time, and now I'm a bit sick of it. Ok, it's been a change, with a smoother ride, less bumpy and less chaos. But all the doom and gloom about what's gone on in the past and how it takes short term pain for long term gain, it's all got a bit pessimistic. I want to turn right again. I want to get back to the good old days. You know, like reaping the rewards after investing in steep climbs, by sitting back, drinking and enjoying the less taxing rolls. Like partying at the top despite others still struggling to climb up.
So I ditched my usual left inclination, reformed and turned right the other day. And I have to report it felt good. I came out in a cold sweat. Breathless. But I did it. I actually turned right for once.
Nothing to do with politics of course (I'm very comfortable with which way I'm turning on that front). It was whether I turn left or right out of my house on my bike.
To turn left is to go east, to the Vale of York, and the long uneventful flat roads around Boroughbridge. A bit boring but dependable. No surprises. Apart from the wind which whips up in middle of the vale seemingly from all directions. No hills or frills means less load through the knee. It means I'm able to get the aerobic workout without the inevitable flare.
But to turn right is to go west. Up. Towards the Dales. Climbing into the hills. More excitement. Harder sections. More strength as well as aerobic work. More load through the knee. I haven't been able to turn right for sometime. There had been no choice. It's been left for a good few months.
But last weekend I flipped. I pivoted. I was ready. It was still gentle, but it was freeing. And rolling down those hills after climbing them definitely felt, for that moment, less taxing and like a party. Progressive.
To be honest, I'm actually doing less cycling now as I'm building up my treadmill running in the gym, with only one long cycle a week. The one, two and then three minute running intervals, with walking in between, three times a week, have now increased to 2 x 10 minutes with 2 minute walk in between. The treadmill is good as the impact is less and load predictable. The gym is proving priceless as that's where I always am, and it's helping with the strengthening of my core more. The next stage, whilst increasing the time running, is getting outside - onto flat grass fields.
The challenge (apart from trying to take a photo whilst running on a treadmill!) is converting twenty minutes to eight hours, every day, for five weeks, in just eight months' time. Hmmm.
I should forget worrying whether to go left or right and concentrate on just keeping going onwards and upwards.
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