I'm talking about my fitness. This week has hurt a lot. I am trying to draf my fitness up by its hair, kicking and screaming. Last year I coasted, played and generally let my fitness and speed drift slowly away. Now I need it back and have to start again. And it hurts!
The week was long and semi-tough. Then Friday arrived I rode for 100 miles in the pouring rain and blasting wind. Not at all fun! A heavy bag on my back with sodden merino meant my shoulders were aching and still are, two days later. I collapsed by the fire on my return and was asleep in seconds. Not a pretty site.
Yesterday I could barely stagger around the flat so stayed in, warm and dry, and worked. Today I was out at 7 for an hour of swimming followed by 3 of running. Aching quads running down the final descent, shoulders still sore and chafed arm pits. Toes have turned a nostalgic black.
Do I want to be fit this badly? Yes, I reckon I do. To be honest I have loved the last week. It has reminded me of what life used to be like, before I got a proper job, when all I had to worry about was who was coming on the next epic ride and whether I had enough change for the cake shop.
Sport, as Howies so succinctly put it, is simple. And it makes everything better. And running today in the sunshine of the Mendips, chatting to (and in fact overtaking) mountain bikers and horse riders) made all of us feel silly, childish and utterly indulgent. And incredibly happy.