Lightning strikes

Lightning is a thing of beauty, a vessel of awesome power. Mostly, lightning is some thing to behold. We marvel at it, and we appreciate it when it presents itself, for rarely is it around for long.

From time to time, tragedy accompanies this natural phenomenon and, out of nowhere, lives are turned upside down by a bolt from the blue. When this happens, we comfort ourselves that lightning never strikes twice in the same place.

It's strange that we're so reassured by this idiom. It is, after all, just a saying.

Two months of Fabian

So, it's the end of May, but my calendar still shows April.

There's a good reason for that. My Graham Watson cycling calendar. Appropriately, the month of April (the month of spring classics) features the man that dominated last year's Tour of Flanders and Paris-Roubaix. The Brad Pitt of cycling, Fabian Cancellara.

KKB saw what was coming. When I opened up to April, he quipped straight away, "looks like it's going to be April 2011 for a while".

Cyclists V Motorists: AP V The Old Man

I've never really vented on this blog about the ongoing rift between cyclists and motorists. It's a a topic that seems to be close to the hearts of every road user - two wheeled or four wheeled - so perhaps it's over due.

I'll admit I've been tempted many a time after returning from rides where I needed the digits on both hands (and sometimes also feet) to count the close calls I've had. But, I try to keep Triathlete Chronicles more positive, and even refrained from commenting too much on the motorist when recounting my recent crash.

But something's changed. I've finally had enough. It's time to vent.

These shoes aren't made for walking

My planned training for this morning was a walk.

I know. Walking is a cop out. As I write this, I am having a tough time using 'athletic powerhouse' and 'walk' in the same blog post, let alone sentence.

These days though, with my options limited through injury, I'll take walking above nothing. It at leasts gets me moving; gets the blood flowing. And I can always test myself out by punctuating my stroll with some short bursts of running.

Turning the corner

It's been a tough few weeks for the Athletic Powerhouse. I've felt a malaise that is unfamiliar to me; a feeling that all is not as it should be in the universe.

I got a bit gun shy after my ill-timed return to the pool, and spent the next week and a half trying to figure out whether the pain had become good, healing pain, or whether it was still raw, recovery pain.

This week though, I've started to turn the corner. I'm back in the saddle, even if for now, it's only short stints at home on the mag trainer.

Too soon? Yeah, too soon.

When I announced at work during the week I was heading to the pool that evening, I was warned by all and sundry. 

"The pool, what for?"
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"It's too soon!" 

I wasn't sure it was a good idea either. I even thought that perhaps it was too soon. I wasn't sure I was ready to swim, but I was ready to find out.

As good as it gets, after a crash

I guess it was always going to happen. In some ways I'm lucky it hasn't happened before. Sure, I've had a couple of spills. Landed in a garden bed after going over my handlebars once. Went down like a bag of spuds once or twice too. But that's as spectacular as it's been, at least until Sunday.

It wasn't pretty. Crashing your bike never is. But there are reasons why Sunday wasn't the worst day of my life. All things told, they ended up as good as they can get.