2nd May 2016
The final week of April was NOT the week I had planned. On a high from joining South Bank Triathlon Club (SBTC) and surviving (barely) the first run session – which just happened to be interval training – as well as a huge spin session on Wednesday, I was ready to start getting consistent.
I like to say this. But as we all know, consistency and I have more fights than The Bloggess has with Victor. But hey, their marriage has lasted 20 years, and I was in the mood for a rapprochement. I was prepared to forgive consistency for being a boring old fart because I know he treats me well in the long term. But with the classic timing of a tiny tot, any romance was killed dead when a flu germ jumped in bed with me, and that was the end of that… I had copped a cold….
Therefore, rather than a weekly wrap of activity, this is a weekly wrap of recovery!
Having run the gauntlet of meeting up with a bunch of strangers and demonstrating my total lack of running talent on Thursday, I had planned to make use of my free SBTC membership on a more equal playing field. They run a core strength session on a Monday and I was VERY excited about it. I’m pretty hopeless at setting aside time for strength training, so I knew tagging along with a gang of REAL triathloners in the South Bank parklands would be perfect. Except it was ANZAC Day, so people wanted to pay their respects rather than display their biceps. So no session this week.
Besides, I had spent most of the night trying not to wake the
beast Grumpster, so was happy to finally let sleep swallow me.
He and I had planned a training ride for our epic Brissie to the Bay jaunt, but I was too engrossed in my pity fest. Or sleeping. Or both.
The thermomix baked me a cake, though. At the risk of encouraging you to stop reading now, it was the highlight of the week!
I had the best night’s sleep but was rudely awakened at about 7am to hear some commotion downstairs and thought possibly the house was being burgled. The dogs weren’t making any noise, so that only added to my suspicions.
(Seriously, if the house were ever broken into, Gracie would either sleep through it or hide, and Dexter would greet the baddy like an old friend and lead them to any valuables. Actually, I must ask Dexter to lead me to any valuables. I’m not aware that we have any).
As it happens, it wasn’t a bad burglar, it was a harried Herbert. He’d got to the ferry station only to spot someone from his school wearing a blazer, and realised it was mandatory AS OF TODAY. So, he’d run home and was shaking me awake, because he wanted a lift in. I tried to fend him off with the argument that it’s slower by car after 7am than casually pootling upstream on a CityCat #truefact, but he was having none of it.
Dosed up on ibuprofen I took him to school, then after a good coffee, I went for an hour’s walk.
The pity fest continued, but I did feel better for the fresh air.
I actually got out of bed on Wednesday morning. In fact, earlier than both the menfolk.
I had an interesting visit to Caboolture, and then I came home.
The pity fest continued – as by the time I got home I felt rough as a badger’s bum, so I went back to bed and slept and slept and slept.
I AM GOOD AT SLEEPING.
Particularly during the daytime, often more than the night time.
It turns out I can’t even get particularly consistent with pity.
On Thursday morning, I woke up feeling like I needed to get back on with life, rather than lying around, so I started to think that I needed to get on with some training.
After 3 full days of doing nothing much, I was starting to wonder if I was just shirking? What do successful athletes do when they have a cold? Surely I was just being lazy. (It is my default setting, after all).
I was coughing less, and only my throat was sore, which is above the neck, so surely that meets the criteria: keep going if it’s above the neck, rest if it’s below.
I wasn’t feeling full of zip, so I set my the heart rate zones on my watch to beep if I went above zone 2 and set out on a leisurely run. Which with a max heart rate of zone 2 meant mostly walking.
Turns out running was the wrong thing to do. Even if it was mainly walking. Friday was given over to sleeping. AGAIN.
So, Parkrun got canned in favour of a further pity fest.
But I did spend Sunday stalking members of SBTC’s progress at the various Ironman (Port Macquarie and Busselton) events via Facebook. Inspiring!! (Especially when one of the team got a second place in her age group!!!)
And read a lot of articles about triathlon training.
And I had some sleeps. Just for a change.
Today is a new day, though. Having kept the sick bug company in bed all week, I am hoping to throw off the covers of a new month to find health and consistent effort waiting to play out with me.
Sickness sucks, and I want to have some fun!