I worked this look today, whilst cycling out with Bristol South Cycling Club for the first time. A normal club run by their standards, and a mammoth, exhausting, challenging, power nap inducing, dizzying 63 miles of gritting my teeth interspersed with a few smiles by mine…
These cycling purists are a different breed. I swear cycling is harder than running. They talked today about how running is harder because there is no free wheeling in running. But this is much harder than any runs I have done, and I have done a lot – unless I just have a short term memory when it comes to physical self-inflicted sporting pain.
|Slab of cake in Tetbury|
|Changing Punctures on the ride out|
We cycled to a cafe in Tetbury. I said I wanted to go out in the slower group ‘with the old boys’ (apparently). However, I accidentally left in the fast group. The pace was always at least 18MPH when I looked at my garmin, and I reached up to speeds of 33 MPH on the flat, although clearly it was in fact down a slight hill with a tail wind to achieve this, because on the return on the same road I was tipping around 11, gasping for breath, gritted teeth, blown off the back and whispering under my Salomon freebie neck warmer ‘this is flipping horrible’. But, once again, I find that the people are lovely. LOVELY. At one point, when cycling in a pack, 2 x 2 and focusing on the wheel in front, I dropped back, and got a push on my back to help close it again. When I was at the back, the group pulled over and waited for me to go past. I was given many offers of gels and other food stuffs wrapped in cling film, (which I politely declined after a banana High 5 gel which tasted glorious made me want to vomit and poo on my bike at the same time). And there were frequent calls to ‘get on someone’s wheel! Save your energy!’. All very well and good – but wowsers trousers that’s hard.
For the 30 miles into Tetbury I was fine. But once the head wind hit on the return, coupled with mild climbing, I was burning through lactic acid in my thighs like I burn through Dairy Mailk of a day with a ‘y’ in it. All the while, these Bristol South types effortlessly glide up the hills in a glimmer of red and yellow like some distant tropical being, cadence high, in a smooth and really rather excellent looking pack.
I’d love to be able to ride to these standards. ‘There’s only one way to improve!’ they all say. And of course it’s true – but boy oh boy, it hurts. Yes, I held them up today there are no two ways about that. No doubt from their wives and Sunday lunches. But let’s look at the positives: 63 miles, 15MPH average, up to 33 MPH, one giant slab of cake, loads and loads of sunshine, an incredible training session, no anxious moments on the bike, enjoying every single descent, and to top it all off – 3 Queen of the Mountains! Three! Not bad for a rookie.
I am exhausted however and felt literally panic-induclingly dizzy this evening. I text my sports massage therapist who said that he feels like that after a hard session, that it’s the dehydration and lactic acid. He recommended I get a 2 litre bottle, fill with water, pinch of salt, bicarb of soda, and some sugar (honey or other) and drink over a period of time. I couldn’t find all of that today so I had a lucozade but thankfully that helped. That and the pasta. And Dairy Milk. (Really need to have a word with myself about that habit.)
Pheewwwee. Bed time!
10 hours of training
4 hours of commuting – bike and run
=14 hours of overall cardio.
10 pull ups.
Not enough food. Not nearly enough food.
Too much Dairy Milk.
Week 11 here we come. Spring, the beginning of ‘build phase’. I need some serious sleep.