I haven’t updated this blog for quite some time. Mainly because life has been, well just plain life I guess. With an ankle that keeps giving me shit every time I shove it down a ski boot, a winter that just didn’t have the strength to hold on, a partner bound to the sofa and work that makes me crave for nothing but wine and sleep at the end of the week, I’ve haven’t really felt like there was anything to write home about. Perhaps there isn’t.
But perhaps not every story needs to be the one about success and getting better-stronger-faster-scooter. Perhaps it is okay to write about the shitty stuff too. I planned for this post to be about failing, because I think that stories about not completely making it are lacking, and I have felt a bit like a failure lately. But I found that it’s super hard to write about failing without sounding as an whining ass. In addition, I’m not sure that I feel like a failure anymore. What ever, in any case, I couldn’t do it.
So, short story about my failure: I haven’t managed to get my ankle in order, basically because my ankle doesn’t need me – it needs time. I gave up rehab, basically because I didn’t have a goal when I couldn’t ski. I haven’t managed to cure Martin’s illness, because I can’t. I have spent more time on the sofa than on my bike or on my skis: instead of charging off to the mountains by the end of the week, I have collapsed with a (+ more) glass (es) of wine and slept for 12 hours. I have felt very sorry for myself. And then I felt bad for feeling sorry for myself, and felt even worse.
Yep.
So life. It is what it is. In the end, the only thing to do about it is living with it instead of trying to fight it. And not fighting yourself either. So perhaps 2015 hasn’t had the epic start that I had hoped for, and perhaps I shouldn’t complain because I’m a privileged white chick, but it must be okay to feel sad even if the cause of that sadness is minor in comparison to other things, and at the same time I won’t get any happier if I jump down and build a nest in my all-to-well-known well of self-pity. So after one or two (or three) nights moping around, I gave myself a big friendly pat on the shoulder, took a real good look at the situation and tried to make a plan for how to make the best out of it (yes, I have indulged in a lot of self-therapy. I hate self-help books, but I keep coming back to this one, it has helped me more than once, but in any case, that is what I did).
Step 1. Get back to rehab: even if I can’t ski this winter, I’ll be damned if I don’t ski the next, and in any case, there is a mountain bike season coming up. So I started doing intervals on the trainer at IKSU again. It is VERY frustrating to quiver from 4×4 min on 230 watt when the person next to you are doing I-don’t-know-how-many intervals on 350 and has been going on for 60 minutes when you leave him. But I guess I’ll get stronger if I just stick to it. AND, I started running! My first try resulted in complete failure. I had to stop after just 1.5 minutes because of the pain. But then something happened. I went outside. With the spring sun as my cheering audience, I could all of a sudden run 3×5 minutes. And then 18 minutes! (!!!) It hurt like hell, but the pain didn’t kill. The second time I did it, I actually ran (first time, I would more call it a limp). Third time, I think I over-did it, a bit too fast and a bit too soon. Slow is fast.
Step 2. Slow is fast. Sitting down and enjoying the sun won’t kill me. I don’t have my whole life ahead of me, but a pretty big part of it anyway.
Step 3. Pick up bike (a very nice and shiny bike thanks to Martin, I will never get good at mechanics if this continues, but thanks, and YAY!).
YAY!
The ratio of dry trails to death ice is still about 0.1 to 100, but still! YAY!
It is painfully obvious that I haven’t been on two wheels on a trail for way too long, but YAY! Sun + good friends on bikes is a fucking brilliant combination!
Oh damn, I managed to write a post about better-faster-harder-scooter anyway.
