This horse is not dead, yet. Continue flogging!
30 May 2010
29 May 2010
A most ordinary training ride
Midday the sky looked patchy at best but the forecast promised clearing. The roads were wet but it wasn't raining when I left the house. There was another wall of down pour moving in from the West but if I kept heading North I would stay away from the worst I thought. Five kilometers from home it started drizzling. There was no turning back, I decided.
When I passed the outer Northern suburbs of Brisbane the drizzle stopped. I squeezed pass long rows of Saturday afternoon crowds lining up on red traffic lights through commercial districts where DIY families rushed to buy their weekend project items. Not my favourite part of the chosen route but soon afterwards I pushed the pace up a short hill and turned left and immediately the traffic lessened.
Once past the golf course the roads became rural with little hobby farms on each side. The sky looked dark and dangerous to my right but there were patches of blue sky in the West. It was drizzling again and the road surface was rough. The head wind was a good thing because it promised an easier return trip.
The road followed the train line and the one o'clock train had its lights on. Maybe trains always have their head lights on, I don't know. I usually don't pay attention to those things. The platform of the train station was empty. I was still heading north and realised that I hadn't been this far for a very long time. On rides earlier this year I had always chosen routes that took me across to the bay further south.
After the little township the roads got rough. Dead roads, drizzle and headwind - the recipe for a good training ride. My knees felt cold. The spray from the road soaked my knicks and leaving a black streak up my back.
Before long I reached the next small township that looked like so many other small townships in Australia. First the houses with little fore gardens lining the road, pedestrian crossings, safety islands and roundabouts demanded some more attention and the town centre's shopping complex was fronted by a car park and the one level buildings of bakery, IGA, fruit & tuck shop and Subway.
This was the northern most township of my ride and I took the bridge across the motorway and the road towards the East and the bay. More hobby farms, horses on paddocks munched on luscious grass, ducks on the side of the road who, unlike the horses disturbed by my presence, huddled off.
My iPhone announced the arrival of a text message and the music had ended, too, so I briefly stopped to reply and start the Cadence Revolution podcast, three or four new episodes that would provide enough music for the rest of my ride.
After an hour of quiet countryside I turned once again left and almost like waking from a trance found myself on a fast, wide and busy avenue and the wide smooth shoulder begged for some speed. Tugged into a more aero position and with the wind now from behind I flew the last ten kilometers towards the sea. Noticeably cooler I felt my soaked feet going numb.
A passed that famous Brisbane Fish and Chip shop where I took my parents last Christmas. The outside chairs and tables were empty and the place looked deserted and uninviting under the threatening dark sky. Alberto's mum calls it "saudades", the sad feeling of longing, and I felt it when I rode pass the beach where my Dad went for a swim on Boxing Day. He had so much fun taking photos of himself in his tiny Speedos next to the city council Christmas tree. A young couple with a Border Collie and a red and white striped umbrella walked along the beach today.
I was on the home stretch now, less than an hour on familiar waterfront roads before I would be rewarded with a nice hot shower and the left-over potato salad from last night.
The clock stopped at three hours twenty, 85 km added to this week's training plan and on track with only a century to add tomorrow.
Do I need to mention that I have been feeling good this week?
27 May 2010
Exposure Joystick and RedEye
Why does going for a ride with friends in the morning always seem such a good idea during the late afternoon slump at the office desk but never when the alarm goes off long before dawn in a dark cold house?
Usually it becomes clear very shortly after the initial torture of peeling yourself away from that warm and incredibly comfortable bed.
Not only do I get to sit here and write my blog now (after work) instead of having to sweat on the rollers, I also get to experience most stunning mornings. This morning for example, full moon - orange, huge and almost touchable - hung low over the dark street when I quietly slipped out the door. The air was crisp but not bone-creeping cold like it had been last week. My friends were chatty and in a good mood like always and the climb to McAfees didn't feel as hard as remembered.
We all know someone or have a generally well-liked friend who, without hard-hearted intentions, causes insecurity and sets in motion the money spending drive. It's that disapproving look at your faded gloves under the coffee table, you only catch it from the corner of your eye. Or the harmless comment thrown into a conversation about 'white' being so yesterday or the pitiful "Oh, you still have those old lights" comment that let's you know that upgrading is overdue. I'm guilty of it, too.
However, towards the end of last winter I was thinking about buying better lights, not just prompted by the comment of that said friend but also by the insight that my 'old lights' hardly lit up the dark roads to McAfees and Mt Coot-tha enough to be safe. I was tossing up between Ay-Ups or Exposure lights back then but before I had made up my mind, which lights to buy, the mornings had gotten brighter and the days longer so I had postponed the purchase. Now that the summer came and went and the sun rises later and later and the time spent riding in darkness is getting longer and longer, I finally invested in new lights.
The Exposure Joystick and RedEye arrived a couple of weeks ago and were first tested on a well lit Riverloop morning with John last week. The real test was going to be this morning on the way up to McAfees. Once you leave the last house behind the darkness closes in and the tree-lined road becomes invisible, even in a full moon night.
I missed ordering the proper handlebar mount from Exposure but Alberto mounted the light with o-rings and I'm almost two-minded about bothering with the proper mount because this works perfectly.
The Joystick is already fully re-charged because shortly after arriving in the office this morning - how easily forgotten are the moments of pain - I received the text message that once again will lure me into the cold dark night in about eight hours time. Good night.
Usually it becomes clear very shortly after the initial torture of peeling yourself away from that warm and incredibly comfortable bed.
Not only do I get to sit here and write my blog now (after work) instead of having to sweat on the rollers, I also get to experience most stunning mornings. This morning for example, full moon - orange, huge and almost touchable - hung low over the dark street when I quietly slipped out the door. The air was crisp but not bone-creeping cold like it had been last week. My friends were chatty and in a good mood like always and the climb to McAfees didn't feel as hard as remembered.
We all know someone or have a generally well-liked friend who, without hard-hearted intentions, causes insecurity and sets in motion the money spending drive. It's that disapproving look at your faded gloves under the coffee table, you only catch it from the corner of your eye. Or the harmless comment thrown into a conversation about 'white' being so yesterday or the pitiful "Oh, you still have those old lights" comment that let's you know that upgrading is overdue. I'm guilty of it, too.
However, towards the end of last winter I was thinking about buying better lights, not just prompted by the comment of that said friend but also by the insight that my 'old lights' hardly lit up the dark roads to McAfees and Mt Coot-tha enough to be safe. I was tossing up between Ay-Ups or Exposure lights back then but before I had made up my mind, which lights to buy, the mornings had gotten brighter and the days longer so I had postponed the purchase. Now that the summer came and went and the sun rises later and later and the time spent riding in darkness is getting longer and longer, I finally invested in new lights.
The Exposure Joystick and RedEye arrived a couple of weeks ago and were first tested on a well lit Riverloop morning with John last week. The real test was going to be this morning on the way up to McAfees. Once you leave the last house behind the darkness closes in and the tree-lined road becomes invisible, even in a full moon night.
I missed ordering the proper handlebar mount from Exposure but Alberto mounted the light with o-rings and I'm almost two-minded about bothering with the proper mount because this works perfectly.
The Joystick is already fully re-charged because shortly after arriving in the office this morning - how easily forgotten are the moments of pain - I received the text message that once again will lure me into the cold dark night in about eight hours time. Good night.
23 May 2010
Lazy Sunday
We spent the majority of the day in front of TV watching taped stages of the Giro d'Italia. What better way to spend a lazy Sunday?
It feels like it has been a century since I last rode one hundred kilometers. And I hadn't really planned on riding a century today either. It just happened.
"One never regrets the rides that one does but only the ones that one doesn't." That thought kept me moving in the dark house this morning, silently and somewhat moodily. Apprehension about my lack of fitness almost kept me from joining Alberto and his team mates to ride to Mt Mee, especially since Alberto hadn't been very confident about me keeping up with the group.
When I spotted Jane amongst the bunch of guys I was glad not to be the only girl, and she, I think, was, too. Everybody was chatty and Craig called out to me that he likes my German beer diet. The beer diet has been more of a red wine diet the last couple of nights, which probably contributed to my resistant start.
Good spirits returned as soon as we started rolling.
The hills of Dayboro Road hurt. My legs lacked punch and I started slipping to the back of the group and eventually off the back. Alberto watched out for me and his encouraging words made me dig deep to leech back on a few times but eventually the group disappeared and I concentrated on not loosing sight of Jane as well who charged up the hills like they were flat road.
In Dayboro the group re-united. Jane and I started the six kilometer climb without stopping, anticipating that we would get caught anyway. While I enjoyed climbing, enough to agree to turn around and tackle the climb a second time with Alberto, I was seven minutes slower than a few months ago.
After coffee and a mechanical we were finally on our return trip and I happily sat in the bunch that moved along in a nice tempo. Only on the last range of the day, about 15 km from home my lights went out.
105 km, 4:12 hrs in the saddle and a TSS of 305.9. I'm glad Alberto appeared as wasted as I was for the rest of the day. I can't wait to feel fit and strong again but many more Sundays like today will be necessary to get there.
It feels like it has been a century since I last rode one hundred kilometers. And I hadn't really planned on riding a century today either. It just happened.
"One never regrets the rides that one does but only the ones that one doesn't." That thought kept me moving in the dark house this morning, silently and somewhat moodily. Apprehension about my lack of fitness almost kept me from joining Alberto and his team mates to ride to Mt Mee, especially since Alberto hadn't been very confident about me keeping up with the group.
When I spotted Jane amongst the bunch of guys I was glad not to be the only girl, and she, I think, was, too. Everybody was chatty and Craig called out to me that he likes my German beer diet. The beer diet has been more of a red wine diet the last couple of nights, which probably contributed to my resistant start.
Good spirits returned as soon as we started rolling.
The hills of Dayboro Road hurt. My legs lacked punch and I started slipping to the back of the group and eventually off the back. Alberto watched out for me and his encouraging words made me dig deep to leech back on a few times but eventually the group disappeared and I concentrated on not loosing sight of Jane as well who charged up the hills like they were flat road.
In Dayboro the group re-united. Jane and I started the six kilometer climb without stopping, anticipating that we would get caught anyway. While I enjoyed climbing, enough to agree to turn around and tackle the climb a second time with Alberto, I was seven minutes slower than a few months ago.
After coffee and a mechanical we were finally on our return trip and I happily sat in the bunch that moved along in a nice tempo. Only on the last range of the day, about 15 km from home my lights went out.
105 km, 4:12 hrs in the saddle and a TSS of 305.9. I'm glad Alberto appeared as wasted as I was for the rest of the day. I can't wait to feel fit and strong again but many more Sundays like today will be necessary to get there.
17 May 2010
Being an athlete and being vegetarian
The recent absence of any weight related topics from this blog is caused by - well - the complete absence of weight-related issues in my life for the past 18 months. Don't hate me! It's not my saintly behaviour at the dining table but rather a very high metabolism due to my overactive thyroid that can take credit for my target weight.
A few weekends ago, when we stayed with friends in Casuarina for the Battle on the Border race, over dinner, the topic of diet and nutrition came up. An uneducated guess about me being anemic prompted a discussion on vegetarianism and whether the absence of meat from my diet prevents me from achieving my best as an athlete.
I have been a Vegetarian on and off and to varying degrees since I was 13 years old. There was a time I didn't eat eggs or milk products but I've never been a Vegan, at least not for extended periods of time. For the past five or six years I have been eating everything except beef, pork, lamb, chicken etc. I eat seafood so I'm not even sure whether that's considered a vegetarian diet in a strict sense. My diet is balanced and healthy with lots of fruit and vegetables, brown rice, pasta and wholemeal or rye breads so I was surprised and somewhat taken aback, almost offended, by the strong views that were expressed.
But I have been thinking about it ever since. What if they are right? What if I'm not fuelling my body sufficiently for peak performance? I read the "Paleo Diet for Athletes" last year.
The MultiV and sushi blow made me sit up and take note. How am I supposed to know what's good for me when what is generally considered 'healthy' is suddenly off my list? What if there are other things that are not good for me? Muesli for breakfast? That's one of the healthiest starts to the day, right? I love muesli but it always makes me sluggish and bloated. Maybe it's not good for me? I'm now experimenting with gluten free muesli, just to see whether it makes a difference. I'm not a Celiac, at least I'm not aware that I am.
How to fuel for peak performance and atheletic success? I thought I had it all figured out but my nutritional belief system is shaken at the moment. I'm hungry.
Confused, I'm wondering whether it's best to return to what my body knows - a good old traditional German diet?
A few weekends ago, when we stayed with friends in Casuarina for the Battle on the Border race, over dinner, the topic of diet and nutrition came up. An uneducated guess about me being anemic prompted a discussion on vegetarianism and whether the absence of meat from my diet prevents me from achieving my best as an athlete.
I have been a Vegetarian on and off and to varying degrees since I was 13 years old. There was a time I didn't eat eggs or milk products but I've never been a Vegan, at least not for extended periods of time. For the past five or six years I have been eating everything except beef, pork, lamb, chicken etc. I eat seafood so I'm not even sure whether that's considered a vegetarian diet in a strict sense. My diet is balanced and healthy with lots of fruit and vegetables, brown rice, pasta and wholemeal or rye breads so I was surprised and somewhat taken aback, almost offended, by the strong views that were expressed.
But I have been thinking about it ever since. What if they are right? What if I'm not fuelling my body sufficiently for peak performance? I read the "Paleo Diet for Athletes" last year.
The MultiV and sushi blow made me sit up and take note. How am I supposed to know what's good for me when what is generally considered 'healthy' is suddenly off my list? What if there are other things that are not good for me? Muesli for breakfast? That's one of the healthiest starts to the day, right? I love muesli but it always makes me sluggish and bloated. Maybe it's not good for me? I'm now experimenting with gluten free muesli, just to see whether it makes a difference. I'm not a Celiac, at least I'm not aware that I am.
How to fuel for peak performance and atheletic success? I thought I had it all figured out but my nutritional belief system is shaken at the moment. I'm hungry.
Confused, I'm wondering whether it's best to return to what my body knows - a good old traditional German diet?
15 May 2010
"Flogging a dead horse"
Apologies if this cycling blog is turning more and more into a medical blog. Lisa asked me the other day whether I feel much better now that I have stopped taking my MultiV. Unfortunately it's not that simple.
Hashimoto's thyroiditis is an autoimmune disease. My multi vitamin didn't cause Hashimoto's. I had it all along and just didn't know. It's hereditary. My mum has it. She knew she had 'something' wrong with her thyroid but she didn't know it was Hashimoto's. After reading lots and lots about it and talking with mum, we now believe that grandma must have had it, too.
So what's happening, you may ask. After two weeks of feeling pretty good and resuming regular training (observing my heart rate restrictions of course - cough!), this week I couldn't get out of bed. My rest heart rate is now 52 bpm and dropping. Low rest heart rates like that are usually a sign of being at the peak of my fitness, which I'm far from right now.
I saw the endocrinologist again last Monday. I had lots of questions and got answers. Hashimoto's thyroiditis can't be stopped. My body will continue attacking my thyroid until, one day, my thyroid will stop working altogether. Until then I will be dealing with phases of normal thyroid functioning and phases of inflammation of my thyroid. It's like a roller coaster ride, just less fun. It could be that I drop into underproduction now and stay there and that will be the end of it (thyroid medication and a life happy ever after). The endocrinologist said that I show all symptoms of underproduction and my last blood test result was right on the bottom end of the 'normal' range.
It could be that my thyroid will recover and go back to functioning normal for while.
I asked and she answered. I didn't like some of what she said. There was a moment's hesitation where she probably considered a white lie before she said that training could be very much like 'flogging a dead horse' for now. I could be sensible and waste my 'abundant' energy on something more worthwhile but I've never been of the sensible kind.
Hashimoto's thyroiditis is an autoimmune disease. My multi vitamin didn't cause Hashimoto's. I had it all along and just didn't know. It's hereditary. My mum has it. She knew she had 'something' wrong with her thyroid but she didn't know it was Hashimoto's. After reading lots and lots about it and talking with mum, we now believe that grandma must have had it, too.
So what's happening, you may ask. After two weeks of feeling pretty good and resuming regular training (observing my heart rate restrictions of course - cough!), this week I couldn't get out of bed. My rest heart rate is now 52 bpm and dropping. Low rest heart rates like that are usually a sign of being at the peak of my fitness, which I'm far from right now.
I saw the endocrinologist again last Monday. I had lots of questions and got answers. Hashimoto's thyroiditis can't be stopped. My body will continue attacking my thyroid until, one day, my thyroid will stop working altogether. Until then I will be dealing with phases of normal thyroid functioning and phases of inflammation of my thyroid. It's like a roller coaster ride, just less fun. It could be that I drop into underproduction now and stay there and that will be the end of it (thyroid medication and a life happy ever after). The endocrinologist said that I show all symptoms of underproduction and my last blood test result was right on the bottom end of the 'normal' range.
It could be that my thyroid will recover and go back to functioning normal for while.
I asked and she answered. I didn't like some of what she said. There was a moment's hesitation where she probably considered a white lie before she said that training could be very much like 'flogging a dead horse' for now. I could be sensible and waste my 'abundant' energy on something more worthwhile but I've never been of the sensible kind.
08 May 2010
Guts and determination and The Anna Meares Story
Sometimes I don't feel like writing, the same way I don't feel like riding sometimes. Writing and riding are quite similar in the need for dedication and discipline.
The training diary hasn't seen many red days lately but this blog has. There is plenty of excitement in my life and topics and stories to share so I don't have any excuses, except, if it counts, lack of time.
One theme has been playing on my mind since I finished reading Anna Meares' book. It's about guts and determination. And I'm not talking about diving down a steep descent at reckless speed and crash or taking off with the bell just to die half way through the last lap and come last. That’s not ‘guts’. It’s stupidity. I’m talking about the skilful art of diving into corners or mastering high speeds in the middle of a pack, the courage of a controlled downhill run that is born from an innate trust in one's own ability.
I'm also talking about the type of guts required to push past the pain threshold, to work harder than anybody else because the goals are high.
I saw Melanie Reiter showing guts when she took the lead in the bell lap of last weekend's Battle on the Border criterium on a circuit that demanded guts and courage because the corners where tight and the speed high. In my head I was screaming "No, don't! You'll lead out the other girls and get rolled at the end" but Mel held on and got second. It was that well executed trust in her ability that allowed her to pull it off.
Anna Meares’ book speaks of doubt and frustration and tough times and between the lines, throughout the entire book, every single page speaks of the same unwavering trust that she can make it to the Olympics despite the horrific setback. Anna has courage. And her book, while not a literary masterpiece and written in simple words that reflect her small town upbringing, lingers.
It’s staying with me for weeks now and it helps me to be positive through my own health challenges that are not anywhere near us dramatic as Anna's after her crash.
Anna’s book also gives an amazing insight into the sport of track racing that I didn’t know much about and that seems to channel the essence of guts: skill, nerve and courage and physical and mental strength.
The above video shows Anna Meares race against Guo Shuang in the 2008 Beijing Olympics. I only really appreciated after reading the book how much tactic and skill is involved.
I've got big goals for this year, dreams of podium finishes. Based on the above I'm wondering whether I'll have the guts to pull it off.
The training diary hasn't seen many red days lately but this blog has. There is plenty of excitement in my life and topics and stories to share so I don't have any excuses, except, if it counts, lack of time.
One theme has been playing on my mind since I finished reading Anna Meares' book. It's about guts and determination. And I'm not talking about diving down a steep descent at reckless speed and crash or taking off with the bell just to die half way through the last lap and come last. That’s not ‘guts’. It’s stupidity. I’m talking about the skilful art of diving into corners or mastering high speeds in the middle of a pack, the courage of a controlled downhill run that is born from an innate trust in one's own ability.
I'm also talking about the type of guts required to push past the pain threshold, to work harder than anybody else because the goals are high.
I saw Melanie Reiter showing guts when she took the lead in the bell lap of last weekend's Battle on the Border criterium on a circuit that demanded guts and courage because the corners where tight and the speed high. In my head I was screaming "No, don't! You'll lead out the other girls and get rolled at the end" but Mel held on and got second. It was that well executed trust in her ability that allowed her to pull it off.
It’s staying with me for weeks now and it helps me to be positive through my own health challenges that are not anywhere near us dramatic as Anna's after her crash.
Anna’s book also gives an amazing insight into the sport of track racing that I didn’t know much about and that seems to channel the essence of guts: skill, nerve and courage and physical and mental strength.
The above video shows Anna Meares race against Guo Shuang in the 2008 Beijing Olympics. I only really appreciated after reading the book how much tactic and skill is involved.
I've got big goals for this year, dreams of podium finishes. Based on the above I'm wondering whether I'll have the guts to pull it off.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
LinkWithin
