Mixed emotions

There was that niggling feeling of guilt when I sent the text message to Alberto this morning: “Just woke up, won’t ride”. Alberto had left much earlier for the Sunday ritual, the Zupps ride. We had planned to meet for coffee at Doug's cafe. It wasn’t like I had slept in and couldn’t make it on time. The clock showed past seven. With only a half hour ride to Sandgate and Alberto not expected to be there until after eight thirty, there would have been plenty of time to get there on time!

It was a quiet sunny morning, only a Kookaburra was laughing from a tree in the backyard, and I had the house all to myself. I loved how the sun was shining bright through the blinds into the lounge room, the coffee seemed more delicious than the usual first coffee of the day and while sipping on my glass, feet up, I was leisurely catching up on other people’s lives, entertaining and inspiring blogs I hadn’t read for some time. Rushing to get out of the house and on my bike would have destroyed this blissful morning.

Discipline is something I will take up again after our holidays, together with my training. Today I just let the morning be...

And then, after lunch and after a little nap, I did go for a ride down to Nundah where the last race of the day in this year’s Queensland State Criterium Championship had just started. I had missed the women’s races. There were lots of people I knew but I found it hard to concentrate on conversations. With one eye on the men’s race I chatted with Nikki, who had crashed in the Mersey Valley Tour in Tasmania just two weeks ago. She got 5th, she told me excitely, and it took me some time to realise that she was talking about the criterium earlier. I had not expected her to be back in the saddle after that horrific crash, let alone racing. She is one tough girl. This year I would have raced Master 2 for the first time. Nikki told me that there were about 12 women racing in my age group and over 20 in hers.

I chatted with Shane and Murray and Terry and many others and the whole time I felt restless and uncomfortable and anxious. It was like poking a wound. Questions about my health were asked and I found myself bored talking about it. I left before the last race was over. I had to spin my legs to get this restlessness and the frustration out of the system.

And that’s when I decided to ban the nasty word from my vocabulary. You know, which word I’m talking about? The bad word that brings tears of boredom to your (and my) eyes … so no more mention of the GF word on this blog from now.

Fridays are now mine

When I first got diagnosed with Glandular Fever in early February I spoke to my boss about the possibility of working only four days per week. I thought the company would be more open to the idea in the current economic climate and it would be easier for me to manage the fatigue. I never heard back from him and just assumed it was a no go, until a couple of weeks ago, when he asked me in our regular weekly meeting whether I was still interested. Hell yeah!

On Friday mornings I’m now free to join the cyclists at the Garage coffee shop who don’t check their watches and who leisurely order the second Café Late when everybody else rushes off to their desks and work stations. Or I can simply sleep in and go for a ride later in the day when the sun has already warmed up the air.

Yesterday there was my brand new Assos Roubaix bib that had arrived in the mail from the UK - it’s very handy that their ‘end of winter sale’ coincides with the start of our winter - waiting to be tried and tested. A 5 AM start provided chilly enough conditions so I was motivated to met Scott at Park Road for an extended Riverloop. The air was crisp, the conversation turned to racing and I realised that it will be a long hard slog to get back to my pre-Glandular Fever form. Scott will be flying up to Cairns for the Tour de Tablelands and, while advising him on strategic points for attack or caution, I felt a little sad that I won’t be going this year.

Today I tested my fitness on Mt Nebo with a climb to McAfees with Colin. It was encouraging and disappointing at the same time. It was disappointing because I initially felt angry and upset about the whole Glandular Fever thing and how far back it has thrown me. It was encouraging because I grinded my way to McAfees lookout and it was only five minutes slower than my best time. Not all strength is lost and I will have a base to build from when we get back from holidays.

Colin arrives at the meeting point - I love the painting on the electricity box!

Beautiful morning

View from McAfees lookout over Moreton Bay

Day nine

Life with Glandular Fever is divided into good days and bad days - physically bipolar, as bikesgonewild called it very appropriately. Since I found out what was actually wrong with me, back in early February, the number of bad days frustratingly out-numbered the amount of symptom-free days.

Today was day nine of feeling almost “normal” and this is officially the longest stretch of consecutive good days I have had so far. I can’t describe how hopeful I feel, hopeful that I will be able to enjoy our upcoming holiday, hopeful that I will be able to start training again when we get back in mid-May.

Making the most of feeling good, yesterday at noon, John and I set out to go on an easy, flat ride. Fig Tree Pocket was our destination, as I was searching for some less travelled and quiet roads and I promptly got us lost before we even reached the city. The search for quiet back roads got us onto a rather hilly stretch towards Mt Coot-tha. We were still travelling in the right direction so we continued on and once we realised where we were, we simply re-adjusted the route: We just had to do the Fig Tree Pocket loop in reverse direction and all would be good.

I welcomed the little detour because it gave me the chance to check out the new bike-overpass that had been built, to avoid cyclists, who approach Mt Coot-tha from the city side, having to manoeuvre a busy roundabout and cross several lanes of a high traffic road.

Once we had approved the new architectural structure, we hopped on the bike path and started chatting when an oncoming triathlete waived us down. We stopped and my first thought was that he must have had a puncture or some other mechanical issue but nothing was wrong with him. He wanted to warn us that a further kilometre down this bike path was police checking bikes. They had just fined him $40 for not having a bell. NOT HAVING A BELL? Heck, John and I looked at each other, looked at our bikes (show me the race bike that has a bell!) and decided that riding to Fig Tree Pocket wasn’t worth forty bucks and so we turned around.

We ended up doing a short version of the good old trusted Riverloop but I still managed to find more hills. John wasn’t complaining but commented “I wouldn’t want to go on a hilly ride with you if this is a flat one” so I let him lead up the inclines to make sure that he will continue to be my faithful riding buddy in future. This was the first time in months that I actually felt like I was putting some power to the pedal.

Climbing on John’s wheel also gave me the pleasure of admiring the little heart-shaped ornament on his Llewellyn bike. As for the brand new Llewellyn socks he was sporting … I have ordered a pair.

The Ride Journal

“That’s really cool, Sandra.” Joel, a talented YouTube movie script writer in his spare time and GenY reservation consultant at work, looked impressed when he muttered this sentence.

When I finally opened my long anticipated copy of issue two of The Ride Journal I felt giddy. I had proven real patience this time.

It must have been sometime last September or October when I received the email from Philip Diprose, editor of the Ride Journal, inviting me to contribute to the issue. I had never heard of the magazine before but when I read on their website that they're not in it for the money but donate profits to bicycle aid for Africa I was definitely keen to give it my best shot. I also liked the photography, artwork and sample stories on the site.

We agreed on the topic and I had about a week to submit my story. For four days I searched for inspiration. My mind was blank. I’m churning out blog posts all the time but a story to be printed on real paper in a real magazine didn’t come easily. Eventually a rough draft of my story was born and then I re-wrote it and re-worked it until I started destroying it. That’s when I closed my eyes and hit the “Send” button.

Alberto is proud of me. He said so on Tuesday night when we finally sat together on the sofa with the magazine, after I had been to the gym and he had been on the rollers and we both had showered and eaten dinner. Only then we took our time to have a closer look and admire the magazine. It was very different from what I had expected, in a positive way.

By now I have read most of the stories and I like every single one of them. The illustrations are beautifully crafted and I love the bumble bee in the picture for the story I wrote. I’m not sure if Jo Holdaway, who provided the drawing, is familiar with the “Think like a bumble bee, train like a horse” parable from the Triathlete’s Training Bible by Joe Friel but that’s what sprang to my mind when I saw it and I found it very fitting.

Every time I open this book with the interesting paper smell - and a book it is and not your ordinary cycling magazine, an artful tea table book that will arouse the envy of your cycling visitors - I discover something new: an interesting detail in a photograph, or a beautifully written sentence that moves me. I haven’t finished with this book and I won’t for a long time.

Check out the Ride Journal website.

An almost perfect weekend

I spent time reading Murakami's "Kafka on the shore", settled for cool evenings in my new IKEA armchair, pulled out long sleeve shirts, stroked the cat on my lap and listened to the rain on the corrugated tin roof on the veranda, drank coffee, rode on roads I had all to myself, discovered new streets through Brisbane’s inner city on a quiet morning, watched the cat’s ear flick and the little body twitch in his sleep, drank more coffee, watched Tom Boonen win Paris-Roubaix at John’s place, ate sweet-bitter chocolate that melted on my tongue, played Scrabble, watched Alberto wash my bike, hung clothes that are still not dry, found a perfect Yoga spot, stretched and performed sun salutations in the short moments of sun, fell asleep to the sound of rain, woke up to a grey morning drizzle, met Alberto at the Garage at Southbank after a wet Riverloop ride with Scott, drank coffee at Southbank, shopped for furniture and groceries, indulged in chocolate ice cream after dinner, listed to Caetano Veloso and Cesaria Evora, followed my favourite wheel home after breakfast at the Garage and felt healthy, strong and ready to get back into some serious training.

These were three good days in the row. I’m not kidding myself thinking that this is the end of life with Glandular Fever and that bad days won’t be part of the future no more. But I’m fully enjoying and appreciating the good days.

Easter get's a completely new meaning

This week was possibly (hopefully) the worst week with Glandular Fever.

It took a huge effort forcing myself out of bed each morning. I struggled and it seemed to require herculian efforts to get to the office, only to realise that it was impossible to concentrate or just keep the eyes open. Without the deadlines, meetings and important projects I wouldn't have gone in. Jet-lagged without having travelled time-zones, zombie-like, I just did the most important things and then left again, carefully avoiding closing my eyes at red traffic lights on my drive home in fear of falling asleep, that's how fatigued and feverish I felt. My body, lower back and throat were sore. I didn't have enough energy to even think straight.
Gym was cancelled, which upset me because I had been looking forward to another Swiss Ball Challenge, and I didn't make it to the acupuncture either.

My endless days were filled with cruel and excruciating rest. I'm not a good napper. I sleep readily and seldom toss and turn at night but day-time sleep, even drowsy and fatigued, wouldn't come easily. Too tired to read or write or entertain myself otherwise for extended periods, and too awake to drift into peaceful slumber, I was lying in my bed or on the lounge room couch, alternating between feeling angry and frustrated, and depressed and sorry for myself.

How much rest can one endure?

When I started feeling better Good Friday, I felt euphoric. Yesterday I was full of energy - no symptoms. The sense of contentment and happiness is hard to describe.

The weather just cleared, the rain is gone, the sun is out and I'm heading out for a little ride now. Everything looks so fresh and green.

Facing more than the usual danger on the road

I received this in an email from a friend today and thought I share it. This happened up in Airlie Beach on the weekend:

This would have to be up there as one of the dumbest tricks seen on a training ride - I wasn't there fortunately as knowing my luck it would have had a different outcome! A group of about 16 riders were on their usual Sunday morning ride when a car full of young guys went past yelling abuse and then as they got to the front rider they opened the rear door of the car - don't know how they didn't take him out!

A few kilometres up the road the same guys were on the side of the road and had poured petrol from the middle right across the road and as Steve (Country Matters) was almost level with it they lit it! He had no where to go but through the flames and luckily there was a bit of a gap to the bunch and they managed to go around it or stop before it! The morons thought it was just a joke and a bit of fun but when a couple of the riders got a bit agitated and wanted to punch their lights out they took off - one running across the fields and the rest inside the house.

The police were called and the fire brigade came as well due to the road being on fire! We'll see what the outcome
is and let you know. They were so stupid they did it outside their own house!

It appears to be a war out there. Ride safely!

California dreamin'

Alberto’s alarm went off just before six. It didn’t wake me up. I had been awake already for a few minutes. I had dreamt a lot, weird emotional dreams about friend’s marital problems and newspaper news and court cases and secret knowledge, forbidden to be revealed and almost given away by accident. And every time I had woken up I had heard the rain on the roof and it had lulled me back into a comfortable, cosy but fanciful sleep.

Alberto and Adam left a few minutes ago. They will race at Lakeside. David and I had planned to ride out to Lakeside, a flat 22 km ride one way, to watch a little bit of the races and ride back. Instead, I’m now sitting with my herbal glandular fever tea on the back deck, starring into the grey rainy sky. The weather radar shows that it should be clear at Narangba for the race and the forecast is “early showers” only so David and I have re-scheduled our ride for after two o’clock.

This gives me plenty of time to plan my ‘training’ up until the holidays. I just wished I could string together a few good days. The last three days have been discouragingly exhausting. The good days, were I’m almost symptom free with abundance of energy and no aches and pains, are still few and patchy. I don’t want to get impatient and at least I’m able to continue working and go to the gym and ride on weekends so everything else will come in time … At least the hair loss seems to have slowed down. I take it as a good sign.

Now, I mentioned holidays. Days off work have been approved, the flights are booked and the RV, too. Arriving LAX on 29th April at 7 am – that’s only 25 sleeps away. I’m so excited.

If you have any secret tips on where to go and what to see on our ten day RV tour LA – Las Vegas – SF – LA, we would love to hear them. We are also planning to bring bikes, so any rides you would recommend, please let us know. Or secret cafes that serve the best coffee …. Or cool bike shops … We would love to check it out or maybe even meet for a coffee or a spin around your neighborhood or both?

If it's anything to go by ...

John, Bec (with hat) and I after the gym session

To be perfectly honest I quite enjoy the sleeping in nowadays. My inner personal bio-rhythm is rather "night owl" than "early bird". It has always been this way. Cycling has just twisted and punched and squeezed my natural behaviours into something sick and unnatural like 4:30 am starts. This is at least one positive about this whole Glandular Fever thing that I enjoy, not having to get up before dawn for a while. I hope you don't think less of me, now I admitted this.

However, someone posted photographs of the women's race last weekend on our local forum website and I felt this funny tight twinge in my stomach area (jealousy?) when I looked at them and saw a lot of familiar and some unfamiliar faces. It was a big bunch and the course looked perfect for a fast race? I felt so far removed from the whole cycling and racing scene and this caused all sorts of mixed feelings.

After riding 30 kilometres on Saturday and 35 kilometres on Sunday I had another acupuncture treatment on Monday night. This time it hurt and I felt really knocked out afterwards. I had felt tired all Monday but the needles just killed me. I went to bed straight after dinner and slept for nine and a half hours. When I woke up I didn't feel any better and I struggled through the day. By late afternoon my energy levels returned a little so I decided to go ahead with the gym and to my surprise I felt strong and energetic lifting weights. Even Bec, the PT chick, commented on how much stronger I was. Go figure? And this morning I found myself tagged all over Facebook ... LOL

Celebrating a good throw, that kicked John off his ball, in the Swiss Ball Challenge