sunday ride

i took back what I wrote earlier. I DO NOT WANT to get better in cycling. Maybe just enough to keep my cardiovascular system happy.

Yesterday we decided to tackle steep hills. And he was forever trying to 'improve' me when all I wanted was to enjoy spinning and spinning and spinning. He asked me if I wanted to suffer or cheat. I chose for the former. This time around because I was away for a week the hills felt steep. I was slower, and I almost bent forward at the waist from the effort. I stopped for a bottle of livita. Then halfway through the loops, Vico. As usual he did not drink anything. I asked him if he was thirsty and he said - "I did not even break a sweat!" !!! I have stopped feeling embarrassed for myself.

I think I have started to transition from someone 'training' for a race to someone 'exercising' for health. No longer was I pushing myself to the limits, no longer was I challenging myself to break my own record. When he pushed me to cycle faster I got angry at him for forcing me out of this comfort zone. Instead of doing speed drills I loped the neighborhood, feeling relaxed and happy. I stopped doing 50m drills now and just enjoy doing endless relaxing laps, losing out to breaststroke swimmers.

I don't know whether I am happy with this. I like the regular routine of exercising but I wonder if I should mix it up with a bit of some race anxiety just to shake up my routine. But I am just too lazy to register nowadays and I hate the thought of waking up just to line up and gather and then run when I can do that by myself.

I did not sign up for PBIM this year. That is a loss to me, but couldn't find the time and friend to accompany me. Wondering what tiny run I should register into...

Saturday: normal 6k. Went running angry and the run did not even help. First time this happened.

Today's planned workout: pool time.

Due Update

I have been Internet-less for a few days now ever since moving into my own space. The office blocks out most pages I want to access, blogger included. Thank God for my trusty old manual cardio journal.

Saturday:

The distance got the best of me. I never liked this route, mostly because it messes up with my pacing. I am never good in pacing. If it's a loooong steady incline, I always get winded haflway up. If it's a flat road I lose steam after charging fast the first few kms. If it's downhill I get bored with all the going down. No, pacing is never my strong suit, and that is unfortunate.

The first few times where I paced correctly the result was sweet. I'm still trying to figure out at which point I should surge ahead and when I should hold back to accumulate potential energy (chewah!). I ended Saturday workout with a half-hearted joy. Maybe it is just the route.

Sunday:

Met my favourite girls and we got started. The pace was quick and easy, and I was caught by my own joy of empty highways and vast open space. The weather was good. I liked it, but I wish it was hotter. I would have enjoyed it more if the sun was scorching on my back. I like suffering during exercising... isn't it the whole point? Pushing to your limits when you 'train'?

A girl whose blog I frequently read writes about always trying to max out yourself when you train. You will never know how far you can go if you didn't try. Well, I'm not training for anything specific nor do I want to beat any of my (so-called) records but I am intrigued by the thought of just getting better, stronger, faster. I worked on my form. I emulated the better ones. I mimicked closely what they did. And I gave when I simply just couldn't push it anymore. That Sunday was a first for me, giving up and stopping. But instead of feeling deflated, I felt positive, knowing that there is a room for me to improve.

I like having benchmarks. I like knowing you've leaped further than you did before.

Monday was a much needed rest. I slept in late, had a good fest of a lunch, spent some quality time with my family and boyfriend, and then watched a movie. Idris Elba was so hot in Takers. I don't really like accents but I like the fact that he's tall. Harris says he walks like he has a tennis ball stuffed between his crotch and I was like, You don't say...

Tuesday:

Fast cardio! But I took it easy, because I have promised a friend I would. We were always in it together, the same level, the same goals. One of the better, stronger ones, also stuck with us, kept at our pace. I can't believe she took it easy. She's a powerhorse. We slalomed all the ups and downs, curves and bends, laughing, making jokes, feeling like the night is ours. At the end of the workout the Powerhorse started to up the intensity, and I followed suit. Like I said, I just wanted to test myself, see if I could beat myself, and get a good workout while I'm at it. I hung on to her for a good 2 minutes, breathing hard, feeling dizzy.

It felt great however. I believe that I am slowly getting better. Inch by inch, my stamina is improving. Slowly but surely, I am able to cover more grounds. I am, more or less, back to where I was.

Ode to my multisport: no quitting here.

 I have fully recovered from my initial slump regarding my prognosis last Sunday. The knowledge of knowing everything about my disabilities (or in my case, limitations) gives me some sort of a sense of freedom to do whatever I want. I guess this might be the intoxicated me talking. I am on a 2 course antibiotics and ibuprofen, and will be for the next 4 days or so. You know, initially I was gutted out, devastated, keeled over by the shock of the news. I know, drama, but it's about to be that time of the month for me, so I guess I was controlled by my hormones than my rationale then.

 

 I decided to make the best of it. So what if my legs are not made for running - I never said I wanted to be a professional runner. If clunky old men and severely rusty grandmas could shuffle along forward until the cows come home, perhaps so can I. I LOVE running. And I have done it in many situations: I have ran while feeling mad, pissed off, or angry, I have ran the whole course crying my eyes out, I have done it in love with my boyfriend next to me, I ran with kids, with my cat, up the hills, along the beach, up in the woods, amongst cyclists, in the rain, in the sun, while fasting, on injured knees, with injured feet, you name it, I have done it. And I want to do more, these are not enough. And if I could only do it once a week, with a maximum distance of 5k, be it. Nobody's counting, nobody's taking up time counts.

 

 And so is swimming. Oh my, where do I begin. I am in love with swimming.  And swimming loves me. Our relationship was like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Easy, smooth and we did not give a hoot what other people thought. But then somehow in the middle of it all, I changed and things fucked up. It wasn't good enough, I thought, and I changed the dynamics.  And all I got out of it was an injured shoulder and possibly weeks of recovery. I'm sorry swimming. I shouldn't have expected more from you (and myself). We were happy being no one in the pool, mediocre lovers just frolicking in the water. I should have not worked myself into a tizzy and worry about the most incessant things, like high elbow recovery. Who gives a hoot when all you need is love? One day, I will come back to you, and we could start again. You will comfort me and soothe me after a good day of whatever else I would be doing. We will be having FUN. No more hatin' - only lovin'.

 

 Aaaahh cycling. My Secret Lover Agent Man. I shall keep mum about this because things are going good, and if it ain't broken, don't even WRITE OR TALK ABOUT IT.

 

 Yesterday I went for a 2 hours yoga session. I am going to rave about this like I do everything else that sweeps me off my judgmental feet. I thought Yoga was too slow, and for trendy socialites. And then I thought it was too advanced for normal non-bendy people like me. And then I figured it would be too expensive anyway and for snobs, and too easy for ol' athletic me. Then I tried out a class, and another, and I was hooked. Humbled, firstly. I have tasted my medicine and it is bitter, but sweet. I loved being proven wrong. Yoga kicks your ass and shapes it into something you could see wiggling in MTV Jams. Not only your ass, but your core and your arms and your neck muscles and your toes - basically everything you have on you. It also tests your ability to cope with pain and block it out with even breathing. I am not the only one. When carloads of FAM football players drop in the many classes, you know it yoga kicks ass. Sometimes we have more sport dudes than the usual females and grannies.

 

 So here's to another one wonderful year of working out, eating right (one aspect that I need Ian's book to help me out) and making new friends while working out. Here is to races I would be doing, races I would be cheering and races I would be volunteering. Looking forward to spend more time with Mr. Karate, my lawfully wedded husband. And with you, you and you who are reading this. Thanks for the support and they will be reciprocated by a tenfold.

Lazy Year End

It's less than one week to the new year. So what have you achieved?

I used to go crazy with new year's resolutions. I am a list person - I make lists of my lists - and there's nothing satisfying for a 'lister' to check things off. My list of 'Things To Do in Year So and So' used to be long and somewhat unachievable. Over the years I have wisened up and wrote down small goals that I know I could reach with only a small push or shove.

I used to write, "Run a marathon," even when I wasn't trained for a marathon. And year by year at the last week of December I would stare at that one sentence and feeling shitty because I am unable to cross it off. That's the downside of an obsessive 'lister'. You chuck out your confidence when you didn't cross out a goal.

This year, though, I had a plan. Instead of putting "run a marathon", I wrote, "run in a race". And I made my goals flexible; I could add them on or rephrase them, no pressure. "Run in a race" is much more achievable than trying to run a marathon, which would take dedication and mindset. So I did. McDonalds run.

And then, inspired, I added another one, "Run a 10k race." So this time around I had a running schedule, and I ran until 10k is an ok feat. So I did, and I remember spending the rest of the Sunday hours walking around the house feeling like I could do ANYTHING. I ran a 10k. haha. Crossing it off the list felt even sweeter.

In fitness, I believe short term goals (run in a race) are better and more efficient than long term goals (run a marathon). My sister, for instance, stopped writing "Lose 10kg in 2 months" and wrote "Cut out sugary drinks" instead. The latter goal was easier, accountable, and gives the result you can see. Then she would add more and more goals, "To use brown rice in all meals" or "Have 3 portions of veggies everyday". These small goals, when crossed off a list, make for a motivating push for my sister who has always been failing on her diets. These goals, she could control. But losing 10kgs, she couldn't not.

Anyway, here's to another year of healthy resolutions, goals and achievements. I hardly put much stock in resolutions now, since I always have continuous goals, but if I were to write my fitness resolutions, it would somewhat look like this:

(January)
- Start riding your bike! (group rides)
- Swim up to 3km (minimum)
- Cut down on eating out
- Have oatmeal for breakfast
- Go for a walk (once also good enough)

Happy New Year, everybody.