Monday, 20 July 2015

The Intervening Weeks

After some time away from this blog, I've come back! That may, or may not be such a good thing depending on your viewpoint, but nonetheless here I am.

Where am I at, fitness-wise?

I haven't given up on the idea of Everesting just yet. I'm stubborn if nothing else. I am planning on how best to go about it once again, especially now that I know just how much it entails, and how important having a support team is. My issue is I'll most likely never have that support, and so I need to plan meticulously around it. Both physically and mentally. My last attempt was going OK until I made the fatal mistake of calling home and heairng the discontent with my activity. Won't do that next time!

One thing with working in Toowoomba is there's no lack of hills. In fact, that's about all there are! There's not a lot of flat ground unless you're willing to venture way southwards, which I haven't done (yet).

Despite not getting a lot of riding in, due to the fact I spend half my life driving back and forth to Toowoomba, those rides I have done have been memorable, usually for the roughness of the roads, and the prevailing howling westerly winds! I've been trying to increase my distances up here of late, both for weight control and as a way of stifling the inevitable fitness loss from lack of exercise.

I've done a couple decent rides, this time away from the horrors of the Great Dividing Range and it's killer hill climbs. They might be fun, but some days you just don't want to face them!

My first longer distance ride, was to a place called "Goombungee" (92k's). The name sounds like a town you'd find in New Zealand, given their passion for having people jump off huge structures, attached to a rubber band of rope into icy water. Unfortunately this was not the case. There was no icy water (just icy wind), and no rubber bands, just lots of incredibly rough roads traversed with rubber tyres instead. After initially trying to find this place a week or two previously, I'd abandoned that ride after getting very lost in the darkness. This time I was determined to find the place.





The night was pitch black dark, and the thoughts of what may be in the forest and beside the road kept me alert and a little anxious. Creepy roads leading to a dimly lit, small country town where the only thing open was the pub. I'd had to get off the road several times for trucks passing through, but it was better to move off the thin strip of bitumen than get run over by 22 wheels moving at high speed. At least, as compensation of sorts, there were no huge climbs, only rolling hills, although these came with their own special brand of slowness - the wide, tyre sucking bitumen kind. They quickly sap you of energy, and it's often easier just to down-shift and stay seated and spin your way to the crest.

Riding at night in the country is a different experience to that of the city. There are no street lights, only the occasional intersection or a lone light in the middle of the darkness denoting a new direction to be followed in the future. The roads are thin, often with unseen potholes and broken pieces of bitumen lying across the road, and thus it's a process of staring at the road and also trying to see what's up ahead while all the while trying to maintain forward momentum. It's a balancing act. Some nights I wish I had a big spotlight attached to the bars instead of small, but reasonable Ay-Ups. I'd also (luckily) bought 2 seat stay mounted lights in case the main light gave out - it did half way back  (my own fault - forgot to charge it properly).

But you gotta embrace the challenges I guess as life throws them at you. I will Everest before the year is out - just when is all up to me and circumstance I suppose. I now have to find the time, no, I'll change that, make the time to do the appropriate training.

Stay right side up. Until next time.

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