I’ve managed to keep up with regular riding since the start of the year. It’s hard though. You can’t add in extra time to your day without losing time somewhere else. It’s possible, but you have to be disciplined and make the most of the time that sits around the time spent not doing other things.
I’m getting fitter, very slowly, and thinner, also very slowly. There is a certain satisfaction in being able to fit into clothes again. I took out a suit today only to find it had cobwebs in the crotch. The arachnids had made a nest of my disused groin.
I have some minor goals, primarily in aiming for 125 miles per week. I can’t always get in a long ride at the weekend so this means really pushing it in the week. I work quite long days and have family, so this limits the time to ride. And you get tired. At a push, I can do 100 miles during the week. Even around that mark it can be diminishing returns.
It’s chastening. A fast ride feels fast, but at the same time it’s significantly slower than anything I managed a few years ago. I smashed it up clarken coombe the other day but didn’t even make it into the top 25 on Strava. That’s my top 25.
Onwards and upwards. It’s hard to get a sense of perspective. I’m not aware what race fit means anymore. I am aware that I feel better when I cycle more, unless I’m really tired and hungry.
Today was a windy hellfest. And I loved it.