Today (Monday morning), Simon and I rode our bikes.
It’s early March, it was a nice enough day, but windy, and we rode from my house (Simon drove, that's how unfit we are). We rode out from my house and straight into the wind for 40 minutes, and it was hellish.
We bi**hed and complained; in fact, we hardly spoke, so hard it was to get to a point where we could turn and at least be in a crosswind after a relatively short time for us. We stopped at a cafe and drank coffee and ate too much.
This is not what fitness seems to look like. The truth is, though, that is exactly what fitness looks like, at least for people like us, and we have been here often enough to understand.
I have ridden over the winter with Simon now, for well over 10 years, because we're close enough to each other and it's convenient enough. I remember in one of the first sabbaticals I had around about 2017, riding behind him (for many years, he's always been fitter than me). I hated him. We were riding on top of the vale, it was raining, windy and awful.
I was questioning exactly why I was there. Reassuring myself that I would never do it again, and yet I continue to do that. I do it because I'm making a deposit in an account, and at the moment the account is pretty empty (or pretty full if you're thinking about my actual weight). What I'm looking for are days in the summer, when I'm flying (relatively speaking, for me).
You only get there if you make the deposits now, you'll only get there if you grind it out for short times and beat yourself up a bit, and make it harder and harder, week by week, until one day the sun is shining and you can cash in, and then you start again.
That's the game, isn't it?
Always not too high with the highs, not too low with the lows, etc., etc.
Blog Post Number - 4463
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