My husband thinks I’m too wordy. I need these words to explain what is wrong with me, how I feel and why there is a reaction in the manner that happens increasingly of late. Last night, for instance, what was easy last Sunday was a lifetime away. I managed 60k before giving blood, but the 55k afterwards was as far away from that in terms of confidence and comfort as it was probably possible to get. It doesn’t help that I’ve not been eating sensibly the last few days either and yes, throwing up at 3am is probably the least I deserved. My husband didn’t hear me because he has to sleep with earphones in to help overcome his tinnitus.
I think we should just mark down Saturday to the end of a long, bad dream.
This morning, therefore I dragged my sorry body out of bed and went to a Retail park, because yes, people do buy stuff in places other than Amazon. I have enough cycling shorts to wear every day, which undoubtedly make the longer rides easier on the lower half of my body. I am back to eating sensibly, and low carb, and I’ll leave the weight in the scales as a reminder to myself that I can no longer pretend I’m a teenager and get away with it. If you want to be healthy, just expecting that to happen is frankly unrealistic. You have to do the work, even when you feel awful. In fact, those are the days when, undoubtedly, the real work ends up happening.
Last night, I earned a new Fitbit badge. It all happened as a surprise too, but to know I have walked this far (even when some of it is riding…)
This week, I’ll not make 110 miles, and it will be okay. Instead I’ll get on the bike tomorrow night, and start again. Today is for rest, work and reflection on how far I have come.
As long as I can keep doing, it’ll all work itself out.