"The average pro-cyclist will pedal far enough in training each year to encircle the globe; the daily metabolic rate of a Tour de France cyclist exceeds that of Everest climbers and comes close to matching the highest rates found in any other animal species. But for these hard-eyed boys, as they work themselves into men worthy of winning the Tour de France, the hope lies in the idea that pouring all your energy into a bicycle can raise you up, make you different than you are." -- 'Tour de Force' by Daniel Coyle

These words are far beyond me, since I am no pro athlete in any way whatsoever. But they are also words that I can relate to when I think about being on a bike, on the track or in a pool.

For a mere mortal like me, sports has been all about escape. Putting myself through any sort of physical torture - God, it sounds so sadistic - has taught me to be strong. In it's weird sick way, it has made me think I'm stronger than I really am, especially when things have gotten really rough. But I am also no fool. The past month has taught me that I am no Lance Armstrong. As battered as I could be physically, I'm still an incredibly soft person on the inside. My husband says I have a soft centre. I let everything get to me and sometimes, I find it hard to draw myself away and let the hyde toughen a little. This is a trait of mine that he finds both endearing as well as annoying (at times). The annoying thing is I wanted to toughen up by going for a run, but I was held back by tight ITBs and bad rockety knees. That excuse is over, of course. I have been given the go ahead to give it a go. But I have now caught the flu and my chest ain't sounding too good.

What's going on?!!!

Anyway, the book is really giving me a facscinating insight into the world that is Lance Armstrong's. The man is pure evil. Well, you just feel as if he must be souless since he seems to feed off everything negative. It really gives you a glimpse into the minds of these nutter cyclists and just what it takes to hack the Tour...

"But there is something far worse than crashing: being left behind. Not wanting to be left behind is the main cause of a primal scene that is enacted every few days during the cycling season. A rider crashes and is badly injured - like U.S. Postal rider Michael Barry was in the 2002 Tour of Spain. He touched the floor hard on a downhill and got tagged by a motorcycle and dragged seventy feet. He had road rash on every part of his body but the soles of his feet. He was bleeding-not the dull surface stuff, but bright, arterial blood. And Barry got back on his bike and rode for two hours to the finish. He had to quit the next day, but he had done the important thing: he had proved he would not be left behind."

That's friggin' tuff stuff.

'You look like my baby sister. You have that same play-play-wheee face that you used to have when we played in the bathtub.'

Okay so after some two weeks of sitting on my jack and doing nowt, I made it back to the water today.

Decided not to bother with lap counting or speed, but to concentrate on feeling my way through the water again. Sometimes I felt like I was gliding through the water with ease - But every now and then, I'd go out of funk and sort of start to flail around a little. I focused on the whole catch-up thing that Ern told me about. I think I must have done at least 30 laps in total but because I wasn't doing the laps continuously, it didn't feel like much work. Still, I'm glad I made it back. There was this dude next to me who tried to race me but the competitive side of me took hold and I just refused to let him beat me.

The stroke count has fallen to 18 strokes per lap.

Bah.

I want my running shoes.

I have a condition that causes my left knee cap to knock about when I run.

Doesn't help that my left leg is longer than my right and is apparently much stronger as well. My feet roll a lot - this, I knew from ballet days - and it's a lot worse in my left foot. The diagnosis is thus that the leg that has to work harder is also a lot less stable, hence the injury. I have now got something called the Iliotibial Band Friction Syndrome as well.

Bah.

Doctor's orders? Less running, light biking and swimming. No breastroke, which is good coz I don't do it anyway, and no no no no squats or lunges for now. Ten days worth of anti-inflammatories, heaps of glucosamine, a bit of physio/preventive exercises and I should be back on track and 'ready for competitions once again', he said. Hmmmm... Makes it sound a lot grander than it is! Interesting though. I learnt so much about my body and how it's developed due to the activities I've done in my life.. Ballet, cycling, running, swimming.. I guess it all adds up in the end. And it only takes a minute for a knowledgeable sports doctor to analyse.

Oh well. Time to recover.

Lucky Dr Low loaned me his copy of Tour De Force as well. Woohoo! Back into the Lance psyche I shall go!

After a two or three month hiatus, Andrew made it back onto the trail this morning.

He was supposed to be at a golf game, but it got called off last minute. And was only good news for him, since he'd only just picked up his brand new 29-er last night. He was horrified when I said he ought to call it 'Gandalf' or 'The White Wizard', since it looked like mine but bigger. So he's decided to call it 'the monster truck' because of his hugeass wheels and great roll over rocks and holes. This, too, was my first ride at BT in a long while. I was worried my injury would play up, so I kept in my granny for most of the climbs and took it pretty easy. The rain over the past few days soaked the earth and we had to contend with moving over a lot of sticky mud.

I felt incredibly alive on the trail today.

Wasn't used to the strength needed for BT so my heart pumped at lightning speed as I went up each climb. Each time I got to the top of each one, my heart and head would pound with great effort, but before I could get used to it or catch my breath, I'd hit a descent and the adreneline would kick my arse. Amazing. I miss that feeling! The air under the canopy was fresh and wonderful and I couldn't help but whooop everytime I got a 'hit'. Coupla boo boo's though - my bar ends got caught in a vine when I was negotiating a narrow turn in the singletrack segment, so I took a bit of a spill. I was thankful no one had seen me :p Also, my rear wheel caught a mudhole when we were heading to T15, but I managed to regain my balance somehow. This dude behind me faltered when he saw me slide and when I escaped unscathed, he cheered me on somewhat with a 'good save!'

All in all, it was a wicked ride. I think Wayne enjoyed himself as well, and I just wish Angie would have come and taken Orangela out for a spin! Maybe next time eh!?


shadowfax and the monster truck


it's mahooooosive!


gorgeous


raaaar!


'mother hen' becks


ming and wayne


me and team drewbecca

More pix here

Oh, how I've missed the mud and grit :)

Left the husband in bed this morning (still no 29-er) and met the warriors for an easy bike sesh in Ubin. Was a little late but managed to make it for brekkie at Changi Village before we boarded the ferry. Wayne was a no show thanks to his mad party last night (sorry I didn't make it dude, but it was late and I wanted to make the ride)! The weather was perfect and cool as it'd been drizzling in the morning and the sky was clustered with fluffy clouds. But this only meant the trails were like soggy mud marshmallows, and it wasn't long before Shadowfax turned a lovely shade of brown. Nearly endo-ed thanks to a mudhole, slipped off the route thanks to a root and ingested plenty of grit thanks to the cruddy conditions - Bleugh.

The ride was an easy distance of around 20-odd k's and I felt really good throughout. Kept up all the way and didn't feel like a straggler, which was nice.


gorgeous day


touristy spot


team salomon