Cycling is such fun! I can’t believe how liberating, how natural, this sport is. But I spilled again the other day, reminding me what a novice I am, and haven’t found adding distance or speed as easy as I’d fantasized. Bum on seat, pumping legs while the upper body is oddly tensed, seems to stress this old human more than running on concrete ever did, and that’s a huge negative surprise.
Right now, with 46 weeks to go, even if I settle into a routine of 100 kms a week as planned (and I’ve yet to achieve that), I’ll end up 300 kms short of the year-end goal. What to do? Blithe answers – go for some of those 100 km rides all the regulars do on Saturday mornings, or just add an extra weekly ride for a couple of months – don’t work. Writing is far more important, so I just don’t have the time!
If it comes to the crunch, I’ll even retrench my aims. But right now, I make a decision to work towards an extra 10 kms a week. I’m not even sure which ride I’ll extend. I can’t even summon the mental energy to program out the year. So for now I’ll just have faith that over the next month or so, I can gradually up weekly distances and at the same time bolster speed in order to keep this cycling gig to a series of modest intrusions into my writing days.
This sight means I’ve slept in. To meet the Big Year rule, I’ll need to extend the morning past noon.
6 weeks in, 46 to go, and something needs to be done. I’m over my minor injuries (courtesy of the red theraband in the photo) but all my 3 goals loom large, maybe even to an insurmountable extent.
I’ve been to the gym ten times this year and easy calculations tell me that, allowing for quite a few weeks when I simply won’t have access to a gym, my 100-workout target is way under water.
The solution? Easy. Trot to the local gym thrice a week rather than twice, as often as possible. This doesn’t fill me with joy – I’ve never fallen in love with weights – but my propensity for ongoing physical niggles suggests that upping the conditioning could be a good thing.
So I can handle this issue. The other two are more intractable . . .
This year, for me, is 3 Big Years, of writing, fitness and rock music. It should, oh it should, also include joining the war against coal. Nothing contributes more significantly and directly to the heating of our planet than the mining and burning of coal. We needed coal but that time is gone.
So . . . so not much. I’ll find a way to contribute dollars towards the anti-Adani campaign in Australia but this year’s time is taken. Sigh.
(Image from Michael Leunig’s website)
Episode 1 of Abstract: The Art of Design (on Netflix, check out its trailer here) is a revelation! I don’t binge watch, but I’m going to chew up these eight episodes. Apropos the Grammys, here is Christoph Niemann nailing why my Rock Music Big Year so wonderfully fans the embers of my love of rock music:
The idea of pop music is not to invent a new story but to tell the same story again in a new and interesting way.
(Image is from Netflix but I sourced it via this Curbed review)