Milos says if I come into the gym for 5 days every week - alternating 1 hr pure cardio at 120-125 HR with 45 mins cardio/45 mins weights - and I eat 1500 calories per day - I will lose 10 kg in 10 weeks. I believe him. He's very good at calculating these things. Very mathematical. However I have to get there first (and stop stuffing my face).
Motivation at zero. Not sure why. May have something to do with a wierd dream I keep having.
There's this long, long road, seems to go on forever and I'm cycling along on my bike on my own. It's not flat (as you know) but gently undulating. Nothing too strenuous, though I seem to lack the power to climb any of the small rises at any kind of a decent speed. It's sunny, with small skudding clouds. It looks like an English summer's day, but the air is crisper, drier and the colours of the landscape are somehow cleaner. Less UV at 4500 metres I guess. Either side of me are these beautiful mountains. Well, hills, really. They're green and brown, bald of anything but small growth which makes them look a bit furry and they go on forever and forever. Sometimes they're reflected in patches of flood water. Not lakes exactly. And little toy sheep dotted in clumps. It makes for a wide, wide infinite landscape and I want to cycle along it for the rest of my life, to enjoy the beauty. There's a figure on a bike behind me and he rapidly catches up. It's Siling (Captain, my captain, we nicknamed him.) "Come on Carol," he says, "We have a destination to reach." "Perhaps I'll never reach it," I shout back, smiling, as he passes me. I have this lovely feeling of the bigness of nature, its vast peacefulness. No houses, people, only a good tarmac road and a landscape that is too wide to photograph. Wider than that even.
20 minutes later I catch up with Siling. The back up-bus is doling out water and mars bars to several cyclists and he's stopped for a chat. "What I meant to say," I add to Siling, as if continuing the conversation, "Is I hope never to reach my destination. When I get there I want to turn round and cycle back the way we've come. I'll just stay on this road until you're done with the rest of the trip, then come back and get me. In fact, don't. Just collect me some time next summer. I'll still be here, cycling back and forth, enjoying it. Just me. And the landscape." He laughed cycled off with the others.
I knew he'd seen the beauty too. He took this picture of it. Well, just a narrow, tiny bit of it anyway.
Motivation at zero. Not sure why. May have something to do with a wierd dream I keep having.
There's this long, long road, seems to go on forever and I'm cycling along on my bike on my own. It's not flat (as you know) but gently undulating. Nothing too strenuous, though I seem to lack the power to climb any of the small rises at any kind of a decent speed. It's sunny, with small skudding clouds. It looks like an English summer's day, but the air is crisper, drier and the colours of the landscape are somehow cleaner. Less UV at 4500 metres I guess. Either side of me are these beautiful mountains. Well, hills, really. They're green and brown, bald of anything but small growth which makes them look a bit furry and they go on forever and forever. Sometimes they're reflected in patches of flood water. Not lakes exactly. And little toy sheep dotted in clumps. It makes for a wide, wide infinite landscape and I want to cycle along it for the rest of my life, to enjoy the beauty. There's a figure on a bike behind me and he rapidly catches up. It's Siling (Captain, my captain, we nicknamed him.) "Come on Carol," he says, "We have a destination to reach." "Perhaps I'll never reach it," I shout back, smiling, as he passes me. I have this lovely feeling of the bigness of nature, its vast peacefulness. No houses, people, only a good tarmac road and a landscape that is too wide to photograph. Wider than that even.
20 minutes later I catch up with Siling. The back up-bus is doling out water and mars bars to several cyclists and he's stopped for a chat. "What I meant to say," I add to Siling, as if continuing the conversation, "Is I hope never to reach my destination. When I get there I want to turn round and cycle back the way we've come. I'll just stay on this road until you're done with the rest of the trip, then come back and get me. In fact, don't. Just collect me some time next summer. I'll still be here, cycling back and forth, enjoying it. Just me. And the landscape." He laughed cycled off with the others.
I knew he'd seen the beauty too. He took this picture of it. Well, just a narrow, tiny bit of it anyway.
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