Friday, June 10, 2011

Water babies and relapsed knees.

There was a time when writing in here was all I could think about.

A few things happened. Like I got married. I had a knee relapse issue. Work. Life. Nothing major.

Spent a week revisiting one of my favorite release: surfing. I decided that for a post wedding retreat we would be doing something active. No lovey dovey beach poses or boring island snorkeling. A lot of my ideas were vetoed, like, hiking up Mt. Fuji, camping in Nepal, etc.

We settled on being waterbabies.

I was actually a pretty decent wave rider back in my uni days. I would spent hours baking under the sun at the beach, combing the waves for some seriously nice ride. Riding the waves gave me a great release.

Harris was a natural, once he got over the fear of being thrashed in the ocean. The waves were calm on our fist day, low tide, no barrels, easy current, gentle whitecats. His board balancing skills were zero though, and I secretly laughed inside, thanking all the yoga poses I did obediently. Once we got a hang of standing on our boards we captured quite a few nice waves together. Paddling back was torturous. I reminded myself that I have survived swimming in the ocean for roughly 2km so this SHOULD be nothing, but of course, the paddling still hurts.

During the evening we rented bicycles and spent a good 2 hours exploring trails. Both of us did not have the technical knowledge of maneuvering the dirt roads, nevertheless we survived. Our quads were thrashed but we survived.

Been running steadily now. 5.6ks every other days. My weekly mileage now would be a pretty 35k. I ran a solid 15k yesterday. This is considered good since I have not been running for yonks. My feeling towards it though still has not changed. Running to me now does not feel as good as cycling does, and I don't think it ever will. I still get pangs, still feel a twinge when I see runners or running things. But definitely cycling is more therapeutic to my mind. The long long long route with only me and my thoughts.

Running is simply just a routine maintenance. I'm not complaining though.

One thing I love every single time is the confidence I get even while still in the act. I love the fact that I can run long and steady without even breaking my stride. I love how powerful and worthy it makes me feel. No matter what I do in this world, I am simply still a person who just fucking enjoy getting her heart pumped and pumped and pumped.

There's nothing in this world more beautiful than the feeling of lactic acid build up.

Alas, all good things have to come to an end. My knees flamed up again after the run yesterday. The pain is familiar and it is telling me that I have another 6 more months of involuntary hiatus. I have no time to feel angry or frustrated; there is simply no regret in doing what I just did. The running itself is worth it. But I need this rest, I'm saving my knees for better things.

Such as straddling my faithful steed again, roughing up the big bad ass uphills.
We have a date.