Training Day - er, week

Today I woke up sore and cranky. My right arm hurts, my neck hurts, and I'm pretty sure my wrists and fingers are crying. This is the price of fitness. It all started last Sunday: one-hour endurance spin class. On Monday, a run. On Tuesday, a fusion class of yoga and pilates. On Wednesday, another run. On Thursday, an early morning spin class and an evening cardio pilates class. On Friday, a mat/reformer session. On Saturday, an early morning spin followed immediately by a pilates class. On Sunday, three and a half hours on a bike, learning how to clip in and out and puttering around Toronto. And yesterday? The most painful spin class ever followed by another small training ride in the hot afternoon sun. I swear, if I'm not ripped by the time of the ride, I'm going to be very pissed. I have a whole new appreciation for people who make health and fitness their careers - it is mentally and physically exhausting. Part of me just wants to spend every day on the couch eating All Dressed chips.

The training rides were extremely productive. With my friend Petre yelling at me and Stace to randomly come to stops, we both became increasingly confident about riding around clipped in our pedals. There was only one fall, and that's when Stace was standing at the side of the road. Whoosh! Down. Silly, Stace. While I was, again, a very big baby about starting to ride clipped in, the three of us eventually found ourselves riding along Queens Quay, coming to stops at every light amidst traffic. And then we maneuvered around cyclists, rollerbladers, runners, babies, and other obstacles along a nice path until we reached home. And you know what? There are some really nice things about Toronto, some nice sights and trails that I never would have seen had I not invested in this bike and ride.

Yesterday, one of dad's best friends, Gary, took Stace and I out riding on a trail in Brampton. We set off a little after 1 pm - probably the worst possible time to ride. Even before we went anywhere, sweat was pouring off my face while I was pumping up our tires (in my defence, there was a lot of resistance and my short hair feels like a fur hat in this heat). Anyhoo, we set off under the unforgiving sun, and we didn't get too far when I noticed my bike start to feel a little off. It turns out my back brake tightened up and was getting stuck, making it difficult for me to pedal along. Gary's son had to bike back to grab an Allen key and then with a couple of adjustments, we were back in business! A kilometre or two later, we started making our way up a small hill and boom! Stace's chain fell off. Miraculously, she managed to unclip both feet and stand up while her bike lay on the ground. Prostar, I say. I know I would've ended up on my side in shock.

Altogether, Stace and I feel like the ride is totally do-able. Now, it's just a matter of putting in some more kms before the 12th. I'd like to complete at least a couple of 60-80 km rides just so I know what to expect. By the end of June, Stace and I are going to be camel-coloured. After one weekend, in addition to my chevron-shaped scars on the back of my leg and blistered hands, I've got the weirdest-looking tan lines. Unfortunately, cycling shorts won't give you the tan that you dream of.