The real loads started this week. New batteries in the Drop-o-Meter. New chain on the roadie. I have been keeping fit and drilling it without any structure but the focus on the lens has been twisted quite a bit this week, back to za plan and all things 'light'.
Hill climbs. Flag TT's. A Mag. A Sunshine. You name it. Work on the weaknesses. Benchmarks to start up the engines and get the oil hot.
"Think light. Think light," T says and it helps but it's hard. The Irish in me wants to have that 4th beer, but the racer in me resists. The body reeled this week when I put it to the test. Muscles cracking, heart rates screaming. Oy. But there's a certain amount of satisfaction getting it rolling each year....somewhere wrapped all in and within those initial suffer-fests. It all seems just a wee bit different though, this year. Lots has changed and while I lust what I lust, the luster is a bit tarnished. My mind is either going to have to polish it and see the reflection or move on. We'll see.
I dunno what is going on this week either but with all this intensity getting cranked up, it's as if my bowels are rejecting me, turning my insides into a giant cement labyrinth. Quite painful actually. No joy in my peaceful meeting room any longer reading mags. It's more like a sweat chamber designed for another type of workout. Back to the Metamucil I suspect.
More this week. Oy? Yum? Likely ouch.