Easter Break

I've been busy recently.  The half term that has just finished had been a hectic one, complete with my own mini-ofstead. I'd been working pretty flat out and hadn't any time to train mid-week. Ten days ago school broke up for Easter and I seized the opportunity to reclaim my work-life balance.

 

The terrain I've been covering has been challenging.  I've never been a "natural climber", but I'm getting plenty of practice. I feel like I've been lucky enough to have two mini-training camps, with no goal to focus on other than my own health and happiness.

Learning to walk in high heels

Learning to mountain bike is like learning to walk in high heels.  It is all about poise, balance and chosing the right line (and the right pair of shoes).  You spend half the time terrified that you are going to fall over and by the time you've figured out how it works, you just might need a sit down, a massage and a cuppa.

At least with high heels, unless you've done something totally stupid, you don't wake up the morning after with your upper arms and shoulders burning in pain.

I've been trying to get to grips with off-roading. I'm rubbish.  I've been practising in Richmond Park, Wimbledon Common and along the Thames tow-path.  This has not prepared me for the rigours of Dalby Forest, which is where Sam and I rode yesterday.  I rode the red route and covered about 30km.  I didn't attempt some of the bigger jumps but peered over the edge, petrified.

I found that as the day wore on I gained in confidence and learnt that if I followed Sam's line then  all would be well. 

The Not-So-Lonely Road

A chemo buddy and I were talking some weeks ago.  "Not losing your marbles during cancer treatment", was the topic up for discussion. I commented that Sam has always been there for me and that I've got the most incredible friends.  "It still must have been a lonely journey at times", she said.

 

I won't pretend that there weren't a few moments, usually while I was sat waiting for some procedure or another, when I wished there was someone physically there.  Without fail, just as I began to feel sorry for myself, there'd be a text from Elise, or my colleague Kate, or Laura, or Lynne, or Sarah, or Cecilia.  I'd come home and tweet about what I'd been doing and there'd be a flurry of supportive messages. This has not been a lonely journey.

 

I have noticed a change in myself. Once I could ride solo for hours and hours.  Come wind, rain, snow, hail, I would be out on my bike, on my own. In recent months I haven't seen the appeal in this.  I think my cycling has become far more recreational and sociable.  I haven't wanted to be alone.  

Yesterday I did exactly that. Sam is off being fabulous on a Rapha Continental shoot in Wales and my other friends are sane, and didn't want to ride in the snow.  I wanted to get out into the fresh air. I've been inspired by an amazing rider I met at a CX sportive.  She was well into her 50s but whizzed past me on a nasty climb.  She beat me by an hour over the length of the course but still came over to chat and be encouraging at the cake hut afterwards.

I was surprised how comfortable I felt for the five hours that I was out plodding round Richmond Park on my mountain bike.  I enjoyed the cold and the sensation of working hard against the wind and up the climbs.  I also enjoyed the chance meeting with Elise, Dave and baby Erin just as I turned for home. A perfect reminder that I'm here because my friends have kept me safe. Thank you.

The Donkey

               Today is Palm Sunday.  I learnt this poem when I was little.
It's still one of my favourites.

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,

Some moment when the moon was blood

    Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry

    And ears like errant wings,

The devil's walking parody

    On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,

    Of ancient crooked will;

Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,

    I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;

    One far fierce hour and sweet:

There was a shout about my ears,

    And palms before my feet.

G.K. Chesterton

Grim Determination

 

On Friday I had my monthly Zometa infusion. This is not something I find myself looking forward to. Thank the lord for the wonderful chemotherapy nurses (Zometa isn't chemo), who do their very best to make life bearable.   It isn't supposed to have any side effects but  I normally feel rubbish afterwards.

On Saturday I went racing.  I wish to be mistress of my own body.  Cancer thriver not cancer survivor.  Conditions were exceptionally bad. It rained so much that I couldn't always see.  I was defeated by the hill and dropped by the bunch. 

But giving up has never been an option.

The Eternal City

During chemotherapy I wondered if I might make my way back here.  My love affair started when I was only seven years old and I stayed with my aunt Sarah who happened to live in a grand villa on the Aventine.

 

Rome has always felt like my city.  I still feel that I would like to live here one day.

I took nine students on a whirlwind tour.  We did everything.  I made their feet ache.  

 

No matter how often I climb the Janiculum to watch the sunset, or hold my breath looking at Michelangelo's Pieta, the sites of Rome will always be incredibly special to me.

I don't think that this is the last time I shall return.

I have my students and Laura to thank for being such wonderful company.

"Life is long if you know how to use it"

"Life is long if you know how to use it" - Seneca

I have done some winter training which I can be proud of.  Perhaps not the milage that I might have covered in previous seasons, but it has been a good start. My goals are different this year.

 

Back in December I began my efforts to claw my way back to fitness. I suppose that I have to admit to being unhappy that my body has changed. I am not in the physical condition that I was.  I don't like the way I've put on weight and have found it a challenge to do more than two training sessions during the week.  Being philosophical, I know that I am expecting too much of myself.

"You act like mortals in all that you fear, and like immortals in all that you desire". - Seneca

The path to happiness and a body that I'm comfortable in comes through cycling lots and spending time with lovely people.  Coffee stops, talking nonsense on country lanes, sunshine, smiles, monitoring weekly improvement by managing not to have a coronary on particular hills; these are the things which make my heart beat.  I'm trying to learn how to live.