Looking back through the blog posts of this year one thing is apparent – I moan a lot.
I have moaned a lot about one particular thing, aside from sea water.
Seems kinda fitting that the last post for the year ( and ever, but more on that later ) will be heavily influenced by yet another injury.
This time the common consensus is that my new shiny, red, beautiful bike might have fallen out with my left knee and its tendons. Which is something impressive considering we had only been on two outside dates and we were probably still at the lust stage.
To say I am slightly miffed is somewhat of an understatement I have to admit. Having purchased said machine and then had a proper bike fit for the first time in my life, then spent some time adjusting to it by watching an impressive collection of 1990’s action movies, my knee has decided that either it prefers rom com’s or that it is missing the now deposed old road bike – which I last rode when propping it up, next to a feed station in Tenby, to be sick down myself.
So having done jack all for 2 weeks before Christmas (aside from eat everything and anything I could get my hands on in vast quantities) I sought medical attention and now I have drugs to take, electric pulses pumped through my knee to endure and a serious of impossible stretches to undertake for a further two weeks, within which time I can begin to bike gently if the pain is ok.
Swimming is also allowable, as long as I don’t push off with any great force – although as that would involve actually going to a swimming pool the chances are this won’t be an issue.
The theory it is to do with the fact that I was never riding that efficiently on my old bike and had just gotten comfortable and pedalled like buggery till I had to get off and then walked the run. Now my bike is set up to get the maximum reward from my efforts (so basically I figure I can be first back to T2) and have a chance of running a good chunk of the run. However my (lack of) muscles in my leg mean that this change in position has caused my left knee cap (which I have had previously issues with) to slip out of alignment, hence causing the pain and discomfort. Which either I didn’t notice straight away due to my enjoyment of such wondrous movies as Predator or Die Hard, or it gradually built up to the point that it hurt to do pretty much anything.
So do I begin the new year with fresh excitement and vigour for the coming challenges and the road to Tenby redemption or am I in the process of selling race entries for the first qtr of the year and scaling down the expectations.
Sadly like the last remaining items of Christmas gluttony which have been dumped into my ever expanding stomach, so have the first events of 2015 (also the last event of 2014, which I bloody didn’t get to do in 2013 either) with now the next event being the Marathon in Wrexham in March. You know the one I was going to train throughout December and January for – to be prepared for the first time in my life for a big event, to go under 4hrs.
Least I didn’t fall out of a loft this time.
These blogs were started as a way to write the mixed up thoughts in my head down, to maybe print in future or keep to look back on when I am older and even more knackered, to read to my daughter and bore potential grandchildren in the future, about the time I used to mess around in ill-fitting clothes in fields and lakes across the country, trying not to throw up sea water and to look sexy in at least one race picture.
So that’s what it’s going to become, something which won’t be published anymore, but will be for personal use.
I know my station and don’t have deluded thoughts like some and recently I have become increasingly pretty fed up with twitter. Granted this is probably borne by the fact that I have been injured ( and thus sulking ) and every other bugger has been training over the festive period but I just don’t get the same level of enjoyment anymore from it, like I used to. So the plan is to scale that back as well, although whether or not that actually happens is another story as the alternative is to actually talk to my wife from time to time.
Least when I can’t train in the future you won’t have to put up with my same level of moaning or groaning or my mediocre views on the important issues bothering the tri world.
So I leave you with the notion that if you see someone who looks like me, dressed like a ninja (figure if black is slimming it must also be quicker) towards the back of the pack in Tenby next year, but importantly still moving be more amazed than seeing Santa at Easter or Liverpool with silverware anytime soon.
Happily I can leave you with the news that amazingly the wonderful people at 9bar have asked me to stay on as a sponsored athlete next year and so I should be easy to spot at Tenby as the 9bar ninja. Hopefully minus the contents of my stomach all over the front of it.