cycling week 8, 9 &10
It started two weeks ago, on the bank holiday weekend. The week before, I'd felt really good for the first time I had noticed my cycling speed during commuting drastically increase (to the point where I seemed to be consistently be two or three gears above what i would have been cycling in 2-3 months ago).
Anyway there was the friday before the bank holiday. I cycled in and back, got changed and headed to the pub. On the saturday I was booked in to a bike maintenance course - which is exactly the sort of thing I needed to go on (it was a birthday present) as before that I couldn't even change a tire, and was reliant on Lucy being near incase I had any problems.... In hindsight I think I drank too much on the night before, and I've always found it a mistake to the drink the night before cycling (I had to cycle to the maintenance course, in order to work on my own bike, rather than a random bike). Also the maintenance course involved standing up for 6 hours.....and then there was the cycle home.
I'd felt rough all day, which Id put down to the booze and the standing and the not been young anymore. I'd been coughing on the friday night but thought nothing about it. The saturday night was the classic take-it-easy no booze night before a long cycle thing with the mrs. I felt exausted at the time, but figured I was sure to feel better in the morning.
The plan on the Sunday was to get the train up to Cambridge and cycle back (which i think is in the region of 60 miles). Lucy said she could tell I wasn't "right" from the start, mainly because she was being better at hills than me (this *never* happens). i can remember everything being too much effrort, but though In the end, soon after 20 miles my knee decided it didn't want to play anymore. After 25 miles (no I didn't give up when I should) every single pedal was agony, especially going uphill. What worried me was that whenever I've "hurt" my knee before, it's more meed a sore kinda hurt, like when you go to the gym and do things with weights far above what your should have done, and it's always been along the side of the knee, which I've always put down to my knee still recovering from when orange_rick dislocated it. This was proper actual pain but in the front rather than the side.
Needless to say we stopped at the next village, had a rest and then decided to abandon the ride. We cycled to the nearest station (gently) and went home. As soon as i got home, I lay on my bed and fell asleep.
What I should have done was to stay in bed and take it easy, my body obviously trying to tell me something. What I actually did was, get up, tape my knee up and red-bull myself up to the eyeballs - mainly because we'd had a hinthunt booking outstanding for a couple of months (sidebar - hinthunt is AWESOME) - and after hinthunt I went on a brewdog inspired drink-a-thon, first at byrons and then at actual brewdog.
Around 10 I started feeling ropey, like really really ropey, to the point where I couldn't even finish my drink. We all headed home, and again I went straight to sleep. Bank Holiday Monday was bleak. I woke up with the worst case of man-flu I can remember since i discovered Emmy the Great (google says this was 2007). I ended up asking Lucy to go home, because she was awake and I could stay awake for more than 5 minutes, and every waking moment was spent coughing in that chesty way that *hurts* - thus making me appalling company. In the end I spend the whole day in bed, without enough energy to change the channel (which involves walking in to the next room) meaning I had nothing to keep me company except what was on dave (I'd been watching storage hunter the day before - that monday all i got was top gear re-runs). It was genuinely bleak.
Anyway tuesday I was well enough to go to work, but then had to go back to bed as soon as I'd got home. Wednesday was much the same. The weekend I still didn't feel well enough to cycle.
The next week came, I cycled on the thursday. When i got to work i was wheezing so badly that I would never have been able to pass as a ninja.
Then came Saturday. Lucy was going to go on a proper ride. Me, I was filled with fear (just over 2 months until the 100 miles in 9 hours thing) and thus trying to accompany her. I lasted 12 miles, before I had to ask her to stop before i was out of breath. Three weeks before I'd managed 50 miles with no break. So there we sat on the side of the road for about ten minutes, with me alternating between trying to get my breath back and coughing up all manner of icky stuff (like I'd been doing for the last 2 weeks), and then suddenly it was better.
Better to the extent that i could cycle like I used to, get up the fucking horrible hills and everything. In the end I started running out of energy towards the end of the 40 mile thing. But after 2 of the most dispiriting weeks since I'd started cycling, it was enough
Anyway there was the friday before the bank holiday. I cycled in and back, got changed and headed to the pub. On the saturday I was booked in to a bike maintenance course - which is exactly the sort of thing I needed to go on (it was a birthday present) as before that I couldn't even change a tire, and was reliant on Lucy being near incase I had any problems.... In hindsight I think I drank too much on the night before, and I've always found it a mistake to the drink the night before cycling (I had to cycle to the maintenance course, in order to work on my own bike, rather than a random bike). Also the maintenance course involved standing up for 6 hours.....and then there was the cycle home.
I'd felt rough all day, which Id put down to the booze and the standing and the not been young anymore. I'd been coughing on the friday night but thought nothing about it. The saturday night was the classic take-it-easy no booze night before a long cycle thing with the mrs. I felt exausted at the time, but figured I was sure to feel better in the morning.
The plan on the Sunday was to get the train up to Cambridge and cycle back (which i think is in the region of 60 miles). Lucy said she could tell I wasn't "right" from the start, mainly because she was being better at hills than me (this *never* happens). i can remember everything being too much effrort, but though In the end, soon after 20 miles my knee decided it didn't want to play anymore. After 25 miles (no I didn't give up when I should) every single pedal was agony, especially going uphill. What worried me was that whenever I've "hurt" my knee before, it's more meed a sore kinda hurt, like when you go to the gym and do things with weights far above what your should have done, and it's always been along the side of the knee, which I've always put down to my knee still recovering from when orange_rick dislocated it. This was proper actual pain but in the front rather than the side.
Needless to say we stopped at the next village, had a rest and then decided to abandon the ride. We cycled to the nearest station (gently) and went home. As soon as i got home, I lay on my bed and fell asleep.
What I should have done was to stay in bed and take it easy, my body obviously trying to tell me something. What I actually did was, get up, tape my knee up and red-bull myself up to the eyeballs - mainly because we'd had a hinthunt booking outstanding for a couple of months (sidebar - hinthunt is AWESOME) - and after hinthunt I went on a brewdog inspired drink-a-thon, first at byrons and then at actual brewdog.
Around 10 I started feeling ropey, like really really ropey, to the point where I couldn't even finish my drink. We all headed home, and again I went straight to sleep. Bank Holiday Monday was bleak. I woke up with the worst case of man-flu I can remember since i discovered Emmy the Great (google says this was 2007). I ended up asking Lucy to go home, because she was awake and I could stay awake for more than 5 minutes, and every waking moment was spent coughing in that chesty way that *hurts* - thus making me appalling company. In the end I spend the whole day in bed, without enough energy to change the channel (which involves walking in to the next room) meaning I had nothing to keep me company except what was on dave (I'd been watching storage hunter the day before - that monday all i got was top gear re-runs). It was genuinely bleak.
Anyway tuesday I was well enough to go to work, but then had to go back to bed as soon as I'd got home. Wednesday was much the same. The weekend I still didn't feel well enough to cycle.
The next week came, I cycled on the thursday. When i got to work i was wheezing so badly that I would never have been able to pass as a ninja.
Then came Saturday. Lucy was going to go on a proper ride. Me, I was filled with fear (just over 2 months until the 100 miles in 9 hours thing) and thus trying to accompany her. I lasted 12 miles, before I had to ask her to stop before i was out of breath. Three weeks before I'd managed 50 miles with no break. So there we sat on the side of the road for about ten minutes, with me alternating between trying to get my breath back and coughing up all manner of icky stuff (like I'd been doing for the last 2 weeks), and then suddenly it was better.
Better to the extent that i could cycle like I used to, get up the fucking horrible hills and everything. In the end I started running out of energy towards the end of the 40 mile thing. But after 2 of the most dispiriting weeks since I'd started cycling, it was enough