It was just a quiet training ride that i decided to go on, at the last minute. I often do it, both for the hills and the company. Tour de Burbs is always a bit of fun.
But holy shit today i felt like i was having my guts ripped out by a large badger named Toby, who wasn't really into kindness.
Truth be told, I probably hadn't eaten enough today, and i was paying dividends for it now. As well as that, I've probably gone from doing something like 150km a week for the past two or three months, to doing something like 500 the past two weeks. I could make excuses for ever. But i felt shit, i barely held on, i cut the ride short.
This is no big deal and happens to everyone who follows some kind of physical activity regime. I probably just had a bad day. All the advice one reads is just to forget it, refuel, and do it again another day.
But the doubts that creep in, as you loose that wheel, your heart beat pounding in your ears, always question whether you did everything right. In a race, and your in pain, the voice in your head is asking you: "Hey dickhead, guess that garlic bread wasn't such a good idea after all...or maybe your whole diet just sucks. You have no power at all."
Stupid, irrational thoughts. But they stick in your head. Which is probably good because, when you get off the bike, you resolve to disprove these little folk theories. To show your yourself that, fuck it, you can do it!
Meh, so i felt tired on a bike ride today. Get fucked James.