5lb on this week; 11.5lb total; 11.5lb in 2018
Earlier today, I found myself trapped in an office with the sun beating down on my head through the glass oculus in the ceiling and staring through a window that doesn’t open (apparently some dufus lost the key a few years ago).
As I fought to overcome the desperate need to lay my head on the desk and go to sleep, it occurred to me that the weather I was looking at outside was probably the norm for Ironman Lanzarote. I wondered where my senses had gone (apparently some dufus lost the key years ago).
Even the THOUGHT of going out for a run at that moment hurt my head – never mind the actual run and I have a Half Ironman in less than two weeks. It’s fair to say the training for that vent has been par for the course ie sub optimal, but at least I’ve been working on a few bits, including my strength training, which even if I say so myself, has been going very well indeed.
On Friday at my weekly PT session, Pete instructed me to pick up (boom tish) from where we left off the week prior. So I did a warm up Clean and Jerk, which he admired but then told me we’d been doing ‘Snatch’. Which sounds like an unfortunate euphamism for… well, I’m sure you’re there too… you don’t need me to spell it out.
Anyway, we hadn’t.
We’d been doing Clean and Jerk (and that’s the last time I mention it Pete!) It was true that we’d had a conversation about Snatch, I remembered the conversation clearly. Really. Ask me to remember what I had for breakfast… nope. Or what I’ve done the day before at work… nada… but when it comes to exercise or all of the words to the entire ‘Black Lace’ music catalogue, then I never forget!
This is partly because I think about it so much (not the Black Lace – that’s just a curse), the weight lifting. I repeat the integral parts of the lift in my head over and over. I think about it continually and when I’m not thinking about it I’m watching it on You Tube to pick up coaching tips and feed the addiction.
It occurs to me very often that when the Gods of sport pointed me in the direction of triathlon, I was actually stood in the wrong queue. I definitely picked the wrong sport. To be fair – I do it with running too. I was once complemented on my very in depth description of the Thunder Run route (after four times round in 24 hours it’ll be etched in my memory forever). One of my favourite ways of getting to sleep is running (sorry) through my favourite races in my head. There, it’s effortless as I’m seven stone lighter and the hills are mere figments of my imagination. I always win 🙂
Anyway, when we did get to the Snatch, all of the virtual ‘training’ paid off as I actually managed to nail a few. Pete even said I they were technical enough to be on the stage. Clearly we were ignoring the fact the lift was only 17kg including the bar!
In a similar vein, I went swimming with Stuart and Nic last week to pick up some swimming tips from Nic who is a dab hand at actually making progress in the water. I on the other hand, get in and wave my arms about sufficiently enough to attract young people in kayaks with ‘safety’ written on their backs and pretty much go nowhere. I took G with me for moral support and while Nic had feedback for both the boys all she could say to me was that it ‘looks beautiful’. Now, this could have just been female solidarity but it was not, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that, or the second for that matter.
In this aesthetic age when they eventually launch the ‘pretty but ineffectual’ Olympics, I’m a shoo in.
It turns out the secret to improving at both weightlifting and swimming… is to do it more of it. It doesn’t need a university grant to study at the University of the bleeding obvious to work that one out. But even so, just to make sure, I’ve been testing the theory.
On Saturday we headed back to Molevalley parkrun to see if I could improve on the lame 43.15 I managed two weeks ago in the scorching heat. That week, we’d opted out of double spin using the defence of a 20 hour van journey back from Austria the day before. This week there was no such bye and the day before we’d headed to a hot spin studio for two hours of cycling followed by a bottle of the Co-ops finest white wine (for less than £7).
The sun came out from behind the clouds right on cue for the run and instead of being cooler as promised, the heat felt worse. The course was dusty as the clay top soil had baked hard and was being crushed into fine particles by a couple of hundred runners stomping their way around the Bacchus field. By the time we reached the bottom of the climb the dust and resolve had settled and rather than opt for the hand on hip stagger up the hill, I went for the far more optimistic run/walk option.
This course is hilly and the ascents account for around two thirds of the course distance. But I ploughed on and felt slightly less dead than I did two weeks prior eventually knocking two minutes off my time for the route.
The first instinct after crossing the finish line was still to go and lie down under a tree but I didn’t feel quite so ill as last time so maybe, if I start training now, there may be some hope.