Muffin Tops

Best name I’ve heard yet for the fat that forms above the hips.

Had a big scare when I made it into the gym this week. My how they grow when you aren’t exercising.

Very sad. I am missing sweating and raising my heart rate. Most of all, riding in a pack with the TripleShot Pre-Dawn Cycling Destination Club.

An avid cyclist I know who consistently wins or places in the top three had the best advise for me.

He talked about Lance Armstrong. How when he was so sick his body and muscles went down to nothing. Yet, when he came back – he bounced back. Working it all the right ways.

I formalize in my mind how I can heal from old injuries during this time. To come back stronger.

From what I’ve been reading on various blogs with regards to pelvic fractures, it will be some time before I can run again. The range of motion with the clavicle fracture is good. But working it is testy. (See Broken Wings.)

Yet the recumbent bicycle beckons!

I tested 20 minutes after a little stretching and crunches. Only to suffer the afternoon with some pain-killers.

But I’m learning. What the body wants. What the body can take.

Ice cream (emotional/sympathy soothers) and growing muffin tops!

Body Talk

Thought I did great last week with training. Managed THREE TripleShot Cycling Club road rides – those guys are super fast! That included Tuesday speed work, Wednesday hills and a Friday mix of 50km. 

By Saturday I rolled out with the usual gang, even though I’d eaten breakfast I felt toasted. Still geared up on Sunday and did a slow roll out to watch the Victoria Cycling Club’s road race.

Monday is “off” so I did my usual work thing with a perfect opportunity to pick a cycling coach’s brain on my training regime.

There were five roadies and one gym session last week. The gymer included core and some balance. When I echoed my achievements, the guru’s head shook.

“Three or four good rides a week will do,” he said. “The body needs to rest and regain.”

My alarm rang this morning at 5:15 a.m. I hit snooze and stretched my mind to believe I was OK to get up and ride.

But the body said no.

Throughout the day I felt guilt. I didn’t get up and roll. What is wrong with me?

I then reminded myself. I’d spent last week on antibiotics for a abscessed teeth. A root canal. An aftermath of yuck from the antibiotics. Unsolved toothaches and pain.

Finally, I forgave myself.

I shouldn’t beat myself up so much.

I was listening to my body talk.

What About Men?

It was early. We’d just dialed in the grunt and groans for the hill climbs. Wednesday’s is hills with the TripleShots Pre-Dawn Coffee Destination Cycling Club. We start at 6 a.m.

The club may have started out drinking triple shots, but these days we're down to Americanos. There’s a few of us. Today a couple for coffee. Women that is. It’s predominantly men that roll in the club. 
It was during the spreading out of the coffees when I first heard the grumbling.

“What about an International Men’s Day?”

I replied with “There should be.”

Honestly though, I’d never thought about that. Until I Googled it. Sure enough there is one! International Men's Day is on November 19^th. It’s been going just over ten years while International Women’s Day has been celebrated for 100 years.

Does this say the outspoken views of gender imbalance are coming together?

Men are different to women. Each of us do things differently. That's for sure.

Before my teens, my father worked hard and my mum stayed at home taking care of us kids and making sure there was always a beautiful romantic dinner every night for dear dad.

He was deserving.

Not like that today in most households. Women work. So do men. Maybe household chores are shared. Yet, is there time in life nowadays for the candlelight and wine?

What about taking care of the men?

Pushing Boundaries

Love the word BONK. It suits exactly the state of my body today as I set out for a (press play on Gilligan’s Island soundtrack) three hour tour…

Saddled up ready to go I thrust the wanna bes over the seat post and set off. Up the hill I went. The call-outs start. Not in the hips or the gluts, but in the thighs.

The sound-offs then went through my gut like a rocket heading out to space. Was I sick? No way. Impossible.

Racking up the mileage is what you’re supposed to do. Gradually. I reckoned a build to Saturday’s epic would see me coast through Sunday’s (today's) additional three hours.
My week had dabbled with three Tripleshot Cycling (Predawn Cafe Destination Cycling Club) diddles. It was a chase with the pelaton. I held it down when I went with the C’s on Friday, but I did a snore.

So when it came to the fifth ride in a week and the sixth work-out of the week my body said, NO! While my mind went GO!

Good at suffering, I capitalized on my misery by rolling all the way to a decent coffee shop for a snooze over the daily and a mouthful of a day-old muffin.

I’ll not shed any more misery today I decide. I had the energy to do the chores. Ready for the craziness in a week.

Knowing also that when it comes to steady as she goes, for the training regime – careful how I go now with pushing boundaries.