• sisters on a mission.

  • Three sisters. One in Virginia. One in London. One in New York. None of whom wear shorts. Ever.

  • the mission?

    Running.
    Taking delight.
    Learning Italian.
    Getting to Italy.
    Wearing shorts.
    In Italy.
    June 2011.

  • Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 6 other followers

back in the saddle

Daisy : Lead Slacker

Well, well, well.   I can’t believe it has already been a month since our fun run.  And nary a peep from the sisters.  What a bunch of slackniks.

I can’t speak for Cathlin and Colleen, but my motivation tanked when we started having 100+ degree / 80+ % humidity days on a regular basis.  Who can think under those conditions, much less string words together to create readable sentences?

Plus my training has been completely out of whack.  I decided to take another break from running (the old foot issue) and do some biking instead in a nice cool gym.  Then I took a week off of everything and sat around eating cupcakes and feeling sorry for myself because my foot still hurt.  Which, sadly,  didn’t help either.  So, I sought the help of a professional (podiatrist) and am (fingers crossed) back on track.

Anyhoo, back to my misadventures in biking.  My gym has a few expresso bikes that have virtual courses you can ride.  They’re cool – the handlebars move and there is a shifter with 20-something gears.  The settings vary from flat short race courses on a track on a bright sunny day to alpine trails in the early morning to coastal rides at dusk.    Other bikers are on the course and there is a pacer that you can stay or leave behind.

My first time out, I did a 3.5 mile coastal ride and gave the shifter a workout as I chugged up and down the hills.  And curves.  Did I mention the sharp curves on the hills and the steep drop off on either side of the path?  On the curvy hills?  Leading to certain catastrophe if you strayed from the path?  I had the handles in a death grip as I tried to work up the nerve to pass a couple of riders that were blocking me.  Every time I thought I had a shot, another curve would pop up.   Damn it!  I was starting to sweat profusely and I’m sure there were unsightly veins popping out of my neck due to the stress.

Finally, I made my move on a straight-away.  Whew!  What a relief.  I settled in and made it to the finish line.  Nerves still jangling, I staggered over to the water fountain, grabbed hold of the edge and took a big swig.   Thankfully no one noticed the not-so-virtual dork with the weak knees.  At least I hope not.

Well, you know what they say about getting back on the horse that threw you (or almost made you throw up).  So, I adjusted my saddle, hopped on and rode a flat course immediately afterward, purposefully trying to veer off the trail and run into other riders just to see what would happen.

Of course the program wouldn’t let me.  The tires refused to go outside the line and the offending riders vanished in a poof as I made contact.  All that worry for nothing, except maybe a few extra calories burned.  Confidence reinstalled, I recklessly rode the coastal trail again the following week,  careening down hills and plowing into anyone who got in my way.  Take that!