I have fallen off the face of this blog. Neglected. Abandoned. This entire expose has drifted off to become words floating around on the surface of the Internet of all things long forgotten. Likewise my training has also suffered greatly over the last few weeks. I think I've gained weight actually. Tonight I did the Tuesday night race ride and finished behind the pack; as in didn't lead the break-away group. And I was dying. It was really a wake up call.
We went to France last week. Spent time in the beautiful French Alps. Took skiing chair lifts across the mountain tops to the finish line of Stage 8 of the Tour de France. Snapped some good photos of Lance Armstrong. He looked like he was my age that day. I swam one day at a pool in Chatel, France. Dress code: Speedo. I've never felt so out of place in my life. I had to go buy a Speedo - as I didn't pack mine. I've never walked around a casual public pool in a Speedo type suit. I felt so European. Took a train to Paris and walked ourselves silly around that beautiful city. Saw fantastic art that I have always wanted to see. Drank Bordeaux. One early morning I ran from our hotel past Notre Dame, past the Louvre, to within sight of the Eiffel tower, and then home. I didn't have any identification on me at all. Young Parisians were still on their way home, drunk, and having mild fights in the streets over girls (completely true). There is not much trash in Paris - you can't get anything To Go. But you can buy a bottle of wine. I ran past the ruin of many bottles on my morning run - and watched the street cleaning crews sweep the glass away. It was different than a lap or two at Foster Park. Took the Euro Star under the English Channel to London. Spent a great night at an old English manor in the country side, and finally toured around London for a day. Not a bad week all in all.
Except for zero training. Even the week leading up to the trip was mostly lost - I had so much to prepare. My training was sacrificed. Poor timing also - as I'm in the big part now, the final push. Every work out has to count. But for whatever reason I don't seem to care anymore? Horrible isn't it? It all kind of started when I trashed my TT bike.
Yesterday I ran 6.5miles. This morning I swam 2,000 yards. Tonight I rode 40 miles that almost killed me. I'm coming back.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteWell, I'm not sure what I did to my first comment. Bordeaux.
ReplyDelete"Gained weight." I laugh.
That France.
One of my favorite memories was taking a ride on a bike by myself in Loire Valley. I stopped in between fields, picked mustard and lavender, and made a "J + H" (boyfriend of the time) on the road for passersby to view. What a great day. What a foolish romantic. What a great place to be a foolish romantic.
Glad you're back safely!