So it seems life is good. Most of the time. Dark moments lurk where you least expect them and I find that I can change from one minute to the next, from happy to deeply sad. Like at the wedding we attended last night - full of happiness and excitement and I really felt happy for the couple. Yet out of nowhere tears came to my eyes and a heavy sadness when the bride danced with her dad.
I have had a lot of good advice and would like to thank everyone for it. I take a special kind of strength from people who have been there - their words have a special meaning to me and I welcome their advice. The most important piece of advice: be understanding with yourself and let yourself feel whatever it is. There is no right or wrong in grief.
And so I move forward, as I must, as my dad would like me to as well. I feel more anchored this week - it could be the training or just the full nights of sleep. It's also the new sense of purpose that the impending race has brought to my life.
Monday was a solid day of training, with a long swim that felt wonderful. It was full of glide and I felt almost 'slippery'. Good thing too, as it ended up being my one and only swim for the week - life got in the way! The swim was followed by 40 mins of weights and a run. I meant to keep an eye on my heartrate during the run, but running with others makes that hard, so I gave in and went with the flow. I know... not very useful as I am trying to build my base, but fun nonetheless. As much as aerobic capacity is a goal for my training, fun is higher on the list.
The rest of the week went smoothly, apart from our Thursday night mountain bike. Towards the end of the ride Duncan decided to do a few extra minutes, so I headed home, while he headed back up the mountain. I got home and made some tea, waiting for D to come back. After 30 long minutes I started getting worried, but I got even more worried when it got dark and there was no sign of D. I knew he had no lights and the mountain is pretty dark... I checked my phone, to find it was on silent and had two missed calls, yet when I tried to call him back his phone was out of order. I started thinking of the worst: Duncan with a broken leg, concussion, unconscious, abducted... you name it, it crossed my mind. Of course, it could have been something as simple as a flat... especially as I carried the pump...
I don't drive, but even if I could a lot of the mountain is inaccessible by car. I couldn't get hold of anyone to come with me, so after a while I took my head torch and headed out back towards the mountain. It was dark and was getting chilly, but I had no option.
To my delight, 15 mins into my ride, I saw a yellow fluorescent vest bobbing up and down into my headlight. I could hear the clippety clop of Duncan's mtb shoes on the asphalt and after a while I could clearly see him running downhill, wheeling his bike alongside him. I was so relieved I started to cry, while he started shouting at me for not answering my phone. I didn't care at all and after a few minutes of silence he apologised. Tyre fixed we rode in the pitch black back home.
That night I felt happy to have him lying in bed with me, my legs tired from the ride, my lids heavy from another full day.
Second week of training was productive and I have left every workout wanting more. That can only be a good thing!
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