…or, as I’m reminded by the more constructively-minded, “recovery.”
It’s been a little over a month since the big race in Auckland. I spent the three weeks after the race being gently active: I hiked and biked all over New Zealand’s South Island and came home refreshed. And I’ve spent most of the last two weeks readjusting to life, work, and the small matter that it is, in fact, autumn on BC’s South Coast.
You may thank me now for refraining from posting a big NZ travelogue.
Noa has been merciful these last two weeks, assigning only fun easy workouts and specifying lots of mud in my weekend outings. So, I’ve had plenty of time to recuperate from a season of intense training, one that left me pretty fried by the end.
But, boy, oh, boy. I kind of assumed I’d bound back into motion, but inertia gets hold of a girl in a hurry. It’s essential that I get moving again, especially considering the advent of the Christmas party season this weekend. But I’m having to push myself out the door for each outing, and they’re suddenly all kind of hard work, especially the runs.
Where’s that sweet spot where I feel fit and strong and crave the next workout? I don’t understand it, but the need to go move has dropped right off and I miss it.
But it’s sunny and bright today, a November gift, so I’ll go jump on my cyclocross bike and crash around some singletrack and give that gentle endorphin dose a chance to do its work.
n.b. This is the first time in years I haven’t run the insane Gunner Shaw XC at Thetis Lake, thanks to being at this point in my training and a scheduling mess that’s preventing me from just shuffling the race anyway. I hope everyone out there has a freezing cold, slick, muddy, wet, disgusting, fabulous time.