Sometimes I hate Joe Friel!

Obviously, I don't hate Mr Friel. Not as a person anyway but as a personification of training pressure and training frustration. Did you read his post on peak performance predictors? I read it sometime last week in that frame of mind ... you know which one, right?

I believe his post would have motivated me at a different time with a different mind set but last week it just depressed me. I wanted to give up competitive cycling. For good! Why? Well, if I predicted my performance for the Tour of Bright based on the three questions he posed, I should do the wise thing and just forget about it.

1. Training consistency during the 12 weeks leading up to the A-priority race

It's exactly six weeks till Bright and the past six weeks were marked by virus infections and life just happening and I probably missed more training sessions than I actually completed.

2. Suitability for type of race

I can't climb for shit, never been a climber, never will be one. Climbing is probably my biggest limiter. The Tour of Bright suits my natural abilities like the proverbial pigs that are suited to flying.

3. Hunger

Well, in the past eight days I didn't give a rat's ass (Sorry Alberto!). I rode but didn't train and my heart wasn't in it. There was no fire in my belly, no want to push the limits, no yearning to get on the bike. The hunger was for chocolate, un-refined sugars and baked goods only and not even my new shoes could cheer me up. I read somewhere that sleep deprivation does that to you. So there I was, hanging head, frustrated, tired and emotional and Alberto said: "Let's just go to Bright and have fun!" and it helped a little and then my Dad called and it was kinda psychic because I felt so down and sad and he said "I had to call because I felt you were down and sad" and he told me that crying is sometimes good but sometimes it's not and sometimes it's better to just hold you head high and keep your chin up, chest proud and positive and while talking to him my tears dried and a little smile returned and I loved my Mum and Dad for their wisdom, support and love.

I gained a whole new admiration for those strong people who care for their elderly parents or ill partners. Whatever AMR is telling you, I'm no Florence Nightingale material and Alberto is no difficult patient. Taking care of him is no work at all and he even insists on doing the dishes, can you believe it?

Despite ample of opportunity the cat chose not to pee on the bathroom mat anymore, for two days now already.

It must be time for me to snap out of this and move on, too.