Tears before bedtime.
Arrived at the gym feeling fat, anxious and pessimistic. Ice cream has that effect on me. Or was it Thomas' egg and bacon buttie? I should never have a weekend "off." I now don't know what to do with myself. Asked the mad Serb what is happening now. What's next. Volume bit done, we're into the intensity part. He was a bit vague. Said he'd see how it goes. SEE HOW IT GOES???? I've only got 3 weeks!! My lip started to wobble and I muttered about going to the loo and beat a hasty retreat to the Ladies. Then sat on the toilet feeling a bit sorry for myself and teary-eyed.
I thought I'd go out, ask how many km I had to cycle tomorrow, then make an excuse and flee. Instead, he nabbed me as I came out and steered me into his office. Vot are your concerns? Sniff WEIGHT sniff. Sniff CANT GET UP HILLS sniff. Sniff CAN'T GET HEART RATE UP. Sniff TOO SLOW ON MY BIKE sniff. ONLY 3 WEEKS sniff. CAN'T DO IT sniff.
"This is all normal at this stage. Let's start some interval training." So he put me in the spinning room on a bike, put some rock music on the stereo and gave me 10 x 30 second intervals and made a note of my heart rates. After the first one, it was max HR 128, min. 98 roughly, for all of them. Pretty even throughout. He nodded approval and took the paper away to make some calculations. My heart rate when I hopped on the bike first, though, was 49. That's unfeasable, so much so I went to get checked out by the doc last week. I've seen 45 once or twice. But all results came back negative, meaning I obviously have some really obscure ailment that no one's ever discovered yet.
My biggest worry - apart from the fact that one day I'm obviously going to wake up in my bed with a heart rate so slow, it's stopped dead - is that as soon as we go over 5000 metres I'm expecting my HR to go up by a good chunk. What then? I will have to slow down, but I'm already so slow on my bike, I'll just grind to a halt and fall off.
GLOOM GLOOM GLOOM. Ah well, another day. I realise the reason for Milos' vagueness earlier. The gym had Wimbledon on the TV screens showing the men's final.
Result: Serbia 1 Nato 0.
Arrived at the gym feeling fat, anxious and pessimistic. Ice cream has that effect on me. Or was it Thomas' egg and bacon buttie? I should never have a weekend "off." I now don't know what to do with myself. Asked the mad Serb what is happening now. What's next. Volume bit done, we're into the intensity part. He was a bit vague. Said he'd see how it goes. SEE HOW IT GOES???? I've only got 3 weeks!! My lip started to wobble and I muttered about going to the loo and beat a hasty retreat to the Ladies. Then sat on the toilet feeling a bit sorry for myself and teary-eyed.
I thought I'd go out, ask how many km I had to cycle tomorrow, then make an excuse and flee. Instead, he nabbed me as I came out and steered me into his office. Vot are your concerns? Sniff WEIGHT sniff. Sniff CANT GET UP HILLS sniff. Sniff CAN'T GET HEART RATE UP. Sniff TOO SLOW ON MY BIKE sniff. ONLY 3 WEEKS sniff. CAN'T DO IT sniff.
"This is all normal at this stage. Let's start some interval training." So he put me in the spinning room on a bike, put some rock music on the stereo and gave me 10 x 30 second intervals and made a note of my heart rates. After the first one, it was max HR 128, min. 98 roughly, for all of them. Pretty even throughout. He nodded approval and took the paper away to make some calculations. My heart rate when I hopped on the bike first, though, was 49. That's unfeasable, so much so I went to get checked out by the doc last week. I've seen 45 once or twice. But all results came back negative, meaning I obviously have some really obscure ailment that no one's ever discovered yet.
My biggest worry - apart from the fact that one day I'm obviously going to wake up in my bed with a heart rate so slow, it's stopped dead - is that as soon as we go over 5000 metres I'm expecting my HR to go up by a good chunk. What then? I will have to slow down, but I'm already so slow on my bike, I'll just grind to a halt and fall off.
GLOOM GLOOM GLOOM. Ah well, another day. I realise the reason for Milos' vagueness earlier. The gym had Wimbledon on the TV screens showing the men's final.
Result: Serbia 1 Nato 0.
No comments:
Post a Comment