29 bikes and a shallow grave

Considering this blog bears the strapline: Running is the answer, it seems like a long time since it reported an instance of this purportedly miracle activity. Barring my Connemara stroll, the Almeria Medio Maraton, at the end of January, was the last time I heard the slap of rubber on tarmac — and even that one ended in calf tears.

Six months. That might sound like a running career that’s dead and buried, but it isn’t. Buried? Maybe. But it’s a shallow grave, and a premature burial. The dead man breathes.

He breathed very heavily three days ago, and again yesterday. Just 7 miles in total, but a journey of a thousand miles… and all that. Added to the aerobic mix in the last week were 3 spin classes, along with the numerous bike rides since the collective stirring of the RC loins a couple of weeks ago. The initial clamour lasted a few days, then stopped. I’m hoping the silence is a healthy sign; that we’re all busy chipping away at the rock of a hot World Cup summer, and all the beer and BBQs that accompanied it.

As always, logging weight is my chief method of monitoring progress. Last week began with the self-promise to lose 7 pounds in 7 days. Result? After a week of cycling and mainly judicious eating, I managed to gain a half pound. Admittedly, I’d dined very well over the weekend, and been to the pub twice, but still, this was a blow.

And so this week began with renewed determination, and the decision to ramp up the heart rate. Cycling is a wonderful way of engaging with the countryside, but I have to admit the truth, that it just doesn’t cut the anaerobic mustard. Most of my safe local cycle routes are twisty country lanes, which get my heart rate up to about 110, compared with typical HRs of 135-140 for running and spinning. It was time to step it up.

So last week, for the first time in many months, I slunk back to the gym to join a mid-morning spinning class, and have added another two this week.

I’m reluctant to talk up spinning too much, in case it encourages even more people to make it even more difficult to get into a class. The morning sessions are not usually quite full, but the evening ones are a hot ticket. Getting seats for the opening ceremony of the London Olympics will be a breeze after this.

But. It has to be said: a spinning classes is tremendous fun. At my gym at least, it’s something akin to a fairground ride. You enter a very small, windowless room, and find 4 rows of bikes, 29 in all, plus the instructor’s. The room is usually half full already, with a crowd of excitable, chatty people fiddling with seats and handlebars and pedal straps. Some are already determinedly whirring away. You find a machine, and deposit your two essentials in the cage at the front: towel and water bottle. Even though I’ve booked, it’s always a relief to find a spare bike. It’s like being part of the crowd jumping onto the dodgems to find an empty car at the end of a session.

You adjust the height of the saddle, and slide it the right distance away from the handlebars. More people enter the room. Being tallish, both seat and handlebars usually need to be raised. Onto the saddle. It never feels quite right, but it will do. Feet on pedals and into straps. Lean down and pull them tight. More people come in. Excitement grows. Instructor arrives and starts shouting. Anyone new? Anyone pregnant?  Any injuries I need to know about?

By now, most of us are pedalling away; warming up; feeling the first drops of sweat pricking the scalp. The lights go down. Apart from a couple of small safety lights, the only illumination comes from the LCD of the CD player beside the instructor. She cranks up the music and starts to bellow into her headset. The sudden darkness and noise generates a sort of excited panic. A couple of people whoop and cackle. And we’re off.

As the techno-pop hammers at our ear drums, away we go on our imaginary, undulating bike ride. Turn that resistance up, comes the scream. And again! More! Another turn! And that includes YOU!

Very quickly I’m starting to pant and sweat and laugh and swear. Different instructors have different routines, but they all follow the same sort of pattern: 4 or 5 minutes of frenetic effort, then 10 seconds or so to grab a drink and drag the towel across your forehead and down your face. Then another song crashes into the room and you’re up and off again. Most of the time you’re acutely aware of being immersed in this orgiastic thrash of moaning bodies, but just now and then you enter some sort of closed-off area where you can shut down your senses, and float like a truly independent, truly liberated human being; the sole survivor on a deserted planet. For a few moments, the music recedes and takes you with it. But then it’s back again, and once again you’re spinning your burning lungs out.

As with running, after a few minutes, you wonder why on earth this seemed like a good idea. And as with running, when it’s all over, and you’re gratefully doing your stretching and dripping and heavy panting, you remember, and feel intensely glad.

The two round-the-block plods have been tough, but I can see progress. The first one, on Monday, was barely more than a strenuous walk. I alternated 2 minutes of laboured jogging with 2 minutes of walking, and arrived home in just under 50 minutes, for a route that I have completed in under 30 before now.

The second attempt, yesterday, still needed a run-walk pattern, but the recovery walks were limited to 1 minute, and the jogs were allowed to creep up towards 3. I made it home in 43 minutes this time. Still  a very poor figure to put on my spreadsheet, but it’s a big improvement over Monday. And the next one will be better again.

I always need a false start or two to get me going, but I hope I’m underway now. It’s been a tremendously enjoyable and exciting summer (despite the attempts of the England football team to spoil it), but for reasons mentioned in recent posts, it’s time to get back on the road, and embrace another good spell of healthy living and exercise.

This is a period of great optimism on the work front. An opportunity has come up that I’d love to see turn into reality. I can’t jinx it by discussing it in any detail, but if it works out, it will be a genuinely life-changing development.

Fingers crossed.