Training through it

Saturday'slong bike ride, at least in my head, started something like this: Hmmm kinda windy out, and it willprobably just get stronger, so I'll go ahead and start this ride outside, thencome in when I get blown over. I have never done any formal wind tunnel testing, but I ampretty sure that after riding on the Big Island's west coast a few times plus ridingaround our basin between two mountain ranges, that I know what it's like. If you picture a nice ocean breeze blowing through your hair, you'd have it all wrong, except for the potential sand stuck all over you. It's more like sticking your whole body out ofan open car window while on the interstate. I had knots in my hair afterward. I had sand in my teeth afterward. The mountain that rises a few thousand feet just a mile from me slowly got whitewashed out of view, like someone had erased it. White Sands National Monument, being just 15 miles away, sends its gypsum sand over to us frequently, and where does that sand land? In my house, on my carpet, according to my vacuum.

I started the ride going slightly uphill with the wind, thinking, why this isn't so bad! Then I turned and got blown across the lane. My eyes stung, so I kept the windward eye closed. Headed in the other direction, I had a specific power zone to hit. The gusts did not do much for my consistency, and I had to go way out of zone 5 to even climb the short hills without falling over. Riding eleven miles per hour downhill, I was reminded of that Ironman that I have little desire to do again, mostly because of the wind. We smaller girls have it hardest. After two hours of dodging huge garbage cans and tumbleweeds and various other blowing trash, I conceded and packed myself and my bike into the boring, calm office where my trainer is located. At least I'm not afraid to take my hands off the bars in there so I can set up an Arrested Development marathon.

Sunday I awoke tobeautiful clear, blue skies, with only a slight breeze: perfect for long run. The only excitement involved 3 humvees with armed men sticking out on top, in the middle of a nice neighborhood. I knew it wasn't anything too serious when the guy sticking out of the last one waved at me with his gun-free hand. They pulled over, jumped out, pointing their rifles, and my heart rate when up. Boringly, it seemed to be some training exercise. I felt pretty tired after that run, but it had been a long weekend, and Hunter has been sleeping less than optimally lately. I chalked my tiredness up to that.

Monday I was achy, feeling old and out of shape, and Hunter seemed to weigh 10 pounds more than usual when I had to carry him all over the grocery store. I swore I'd never put him in that heavy outfit again! Tears even came to my eyes as I recounted to Jeremy just how physically hard that shopping was. I was feeling worse and worse, complaining to myself how my boob hurt...oh wait! My boob hurts, I'm having chills and feel feverish, my joints ache! Look, it's mastitis again! Isn't this supposed to be a first-few-weeks-of-nursing thing? Thankfully I was quick to pick up on it, then I took some antibiotics, went to bed, and felt a hundred times better in the morning. I'm once again able to pick up my heavy baby and run after him when he sprints to the stairs as soon as I turn my back. 

I took today off from the official training, but kept up the outdoor trekking and baby hefting. With the hurdles of the weekend I feel that it is a much deserved -- required -- rest. 

 

 We could spend all day every day outside, especially if there are sticks involved.