My brother and I drove to Hurstbridge and hit out from there. A few very small climbs to get into the mood and then a long hard slog up to Kinglake. Actually there was a bastard of climb just before we hit the big one. Short and sharp, which I always suffer on.

Kinglake is about 500m above sea level and it’s a 7km climb up to it. I’ve discovered I do better when the rides are hard if I have something to pretty to look at. Kinglake is still recovering from the massive fires but it’s an amazing ride up there. The view on the way up was amazing. I would’ve stopped to take a photo but if I had, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have been able to get started again.

I really suffered in the last three kilometres. My average speed dropped down to 12kph. It was okay at first, the grade wasn’t too bad and there were lots of twisty bits to keep me distracted. The higher up we got, the more I suffered. A few times I was certain I wasn’t going to make it but my brother was great, he slowed down and offered encouragement. He actually got in front at one point and forced me to slow down. Being a much more experienced rider, he saw the signs of me about to blow up and made me slow down enough to get my heart rate down.

It was really helpful. My brother was more than happy to explain the ride to me, where the corners were and we worked on finding a suitable tempo that I will be able to sustain on the Degani Kinglake Ride in two weeks. My heart rate monitor is turning out to be a really valuable piece of equipment. I didn’t think I’d find that much for it but I find myself using it all the time.

The descent was awesome. Took us over an hour to climb up but about 45 minutes to get down. The only problem was that it was bloody cold coming down! My brother ended up giving me his rain jacket because I was so cold. We talked about how to descend, how to take the corners, when to brake and where to look to be safe. He stayed behind me a lot of the way, shouting instructions. Heh. My maximum speed clocked in at 60kph and I didn’t even realise I was going that quickly. Of course, my brother shot past me quite a few times. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to ride like he does but I think I did okay.

It was hard going but I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself right now. I suppose it’s because I’m setting goals and achieving them. I may never be the world’s best climber but I’ve proved to myself that I shouldn’t be so defeatist. Hill climbing is definitely about mental attitude and telling myself I can’t do it is stupid because today is evidence that I can.

Me in Kinglake, in front of the restoration project centre.

About to suck down a gel but you can still tell I’m smiling.

Anyhoo… this is something my brother wrote in my birthday card which I really liked:
Bike riding is not about where you are going but what you see, feel, smell and think about along the way. Don’t try to destroy (yourself!) when you ride but create thoughts, ideas and a broad smile on your face. As you discover, make sure you enjoy!

So, without further ado – pic spam post!!

And then there are days like today.

That’s not to say it wasn’t cold – it was (4°C). And indeed, my hands did go numb. When they finally warmed up, it was time to not being able to feel my feet. But you know what? It didn’t matter.

On occasion, I manage to feel that elusive cyclists’ high. It’s something beyond the endorphins that have been released. It’s beyond feeling happy. The closest I can come to describing it is that it’s a sensation of fierce joy. Like I could take on the entire world. I want to scream to the sky that I’m here, that I’m truly alive. It’s a high unlike anything else.

This isn’t to say it doesn’t hurt. It does. The cold seeps into every part of my body and to breathe is like breathing in ice. My face hurts, my teeth hurt, my nose goes numb but I am alive in that moment in a way I can never be in my everyday life. My heart pounds and my whole body shakes from the effort. It’s cold, so cold, but somehow that makes it even better. In the moment, I feel like I’m best version of myself that I can possibly be. I’m strong, in control, capable, fierce and utterly blissed out. I rise above all monotony in my life and everything is so clear. All that matters is the moment, the joy I feel. It’s truly living in the moment.

“The bicycle has a soul. If you succeed to love it, it will give you emotions that you will never forget.”
- Mario Cipollini

He crashed during a descent on stage 16 doing about 70kms and simply brushed it off. The team car was miles ahead so he flagged down an official race car, hopped on a teeny weeny juniors’ bike with toe clips and barrelled down the rest of the descent so he could catch up with the team car and get one of his spare bikes. Then at the finish he gives this funny interview about what happened.

Like I said – simply amazing.

When I stacked and busted my ribs, all I did was complain and whine for weeks. Jens? He just dismisses it. One of the last hard men of cycling. Check out cycling tips blog for the story of Jens’ crash in his own words and see a photo of Jens on a bike that’s way, way, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too small for him. I think Wade needs to make a t-shirt that says “What would Jens do?”

A commonly made comment: Jens doesn’t get road rash, the road gets Jens rash.

It’s not huge or anything but it looks like it’s been renovated in the last five years, meaning it still looks really nice. It’s all neutral colours so my art will look good on the walls. I don’t have space for a washing machine which will be annoying as it means I’ll be doing a lot of hand-washing of my cycling gear. Gonna need a bigger bucket. I even have my own tiny backyard in which I might have a go at growing some herbs. There’s a car port which means my car won’t be at the mercy of the elements. I’ll probably have to lose some furniture but realistically how much do I need? The big issue will be making sure there’s room for my bikes.

And why did I really want this place? It’s just around the corner from the Chandler Hwy entrance to Yarra Boulevard. If I really want to, I can ride hills every day (but I don’t think so).

And why am I up so late during on a school night? Tour de France, stage three. They’ve just hit one of the long sections of cobble that they use in the Paris-Roubaix ride. Frank Schleck is down and it looks like his tour might be over. The start of the tour this year has been absolutely brutal. Crashes are part of the race but not like this. One Australian is already out and I’ve got my fingers crossed that the rest make it through the tour. I think this year just finishing would be a good result.

Wow… Lance Armstrong looks like he’s really suffering over the cobbles. Never thought I’d see that. Cadel is tucked up in a group that’s chasing down the leaders so who knows where he’ll end up. Love to see him win a stage. Love, love, love to see him in the yellow jersey.

My knees started hurting about a week after my bike fit. My seat was put down and it turned out to be too low. I didn’t exactly rush to put it back up which was a bit stupid. The right knee has sorted itself out but the left is giving me grief. One trip to the physio later and it tuns out my patella has been scraping the tendons underneath it and the muscle on the outside is pulling it off-centre with every turn of the crank. The inside muscle isn’t doing its job of creating equal tension so my patella doesn’t move from side to side.

Kate – the physio – said she doesn’t think it’s too bad (she said she’d seen a lot worse) but it does need correcting. So now I have to flex my quaddie 100 times whilst tapping the inner muscle. Weird huh? Apparently the tapping sends a message to my brain to grow the muscle. I also have to tape my knee if I’m going to get on my bike. I’ve been cleared to continue riding to work but I’m not allowed to do any long rides at all. *pouts* She also thinks I may have a Baker’s cyst. These aren’t dangerous at all as it’s just a pouch of fluid that’s formed at the back of my knee. There’s not a lot I can do about it anyway except rest it and take some ibuprofen to get the inflammation down. I’m sure all will be revealed and hopefully resolved with treatment.

I have a sneaking suspicion that both my patellas get pulled to the outside of my knees but it’s never hurt before so perhaps it’s being pulled a little further than normal.

I chose a sports physio this time as I figured my knee is a sport-related injury. Knees are tricky too so I thought it’d be better to see someone who was more likely to be familiar with their problems. But lordy, did she hurt me or what? She did a thing called a muscle strip from my hip to my knee and I nearly cried. Basically, it’s her running her fingers down my leg as hard as she can right over over the bone to break up the muscle fibres. This forces the muscle to relax but holy crap, It was painful!! I’m also sporting a rather lovely bruise at the moment where she did the most work. Haven’t decided if it helped or not as it still hurts. I’m supposed to roll a tennis ball down my leg as hard as I can but I decided I’m going to wait until the bruising heals.

The scary thing is that she said she wasn’t even doing it that hard. The pros would get it done infinitely harder than what she did to me. I also think I detected a note a slight note of satisfaction in her voice when she said that. Perhaps I should be worried…

As for the house hunting, well lets not talk about that. Every time I think about it, I end up with this slight feeling of PANIC!! Looked a place today that was okay and am about to go see another. This one I think I really want so I’ve already filled in the application form. Hopefully that will put me at the top of the pile.

Yet another comic book I’ve deemed worthy of an entry all of its own. Blacksad is a French comic written and illustrated by two Spanish men. It’s finally been translated into English and collected into a hardback by Dark Horse. And it’s nothing short of incredible.

It’s the first time since Usagi Yojimbo – Chanoyu that I actually felt compelled to read something again. I haven’t as yet. I’m taking my time in doing so to draw out the anticipation. I have flicked through it several times and each time I’m just amazed at how good it is. The artwork by Juanjo Guarnido is simply stunning and the scripts by Juan Díaz Canales are godsmackingly good.

I must admit that I do have a soft spot for a comics that feature anthropomorphic animals. However, this is on a whole other level of sheer awesomeness. Usually stories that feature these sorts of characters verge on being twee and overly cutesy so Blacksad is the most refreshing of changes because it has a realistic feel to it and the themes running through it are quite dark.

I’m desperately hoping the new comic gets translated into English. Otherwise, I might just have to learn how to read French.

I’m so hardcore.

It stopped drizzling about 15 minutes into my ride and I felt pretty good. Got all the way to Black Rock with it only drizzling briefly once or twice. It was when I’d turned around and started to head for home that the heavens opened. Today’s lesson was that rain coming in sideways on your face when you’re ticking along at about 30ks actually hurts. However, I pedaled past plenty of whimpy men who’d stopped to take shelter.

My thinking was that I was already saturated and I had no idea how long the rain was going to last so I might as well continue. It really took it out of me though. At one point I was thinking about finding the nearest train station but I figured actually finding one, waiting for the train, getting on it, heading into the city and changing trains to one that would take me home would’ve taken longer than simply riding home. I still would’ve been saturated but not moving so there would’ve been no body heat being generated which would’ve left me feeling utterly miserable. Plus I probably would’ve stunk the train out and been very unpopular.

And to show just how hardcore I really am, a photo of the back of my jersey before it went in the washing machine.

I am wondering if it will be white ever again.

But to turn to other things…

Viewed a few places yesterday. At one of them, the current tenant had a very sexy black Bianchi. (Geez, I really can’t get away from the bike stuff can I?). The first place I looked at was totally disgusting. And grossly over-priced. The last one was actually kinda depressing. It looked like it was currently home to a divorced dad with two kids that he got on the weekends. It was crammed full of stuff and there was hardly any room to move.

This probably isn’t the best decision but I’ve decided to be choosy about where I end up. I really don’t want to be somewhere crappy. I’m okay with spending more to have something nice. Worse case scenario plans are falling into place so I feel a little more relaxed about it then I did.

Oh, and I’m so totally digging the ads for the upcoming Tour de France on SBS’s FIFA World Cup coverage at the moment. After the Giro d’Aussie, sorry d’Italia, I think I might be having a few late nights in July.

I have zero motivation to do so at the moment. I’m actually still lying in bed. I pulled my blind up a little so I can see that it’s not raining and probably won’t rain but I just can’t be bothered to get up. Plus there’s this whole thing of having my legs squeal in pain every time I move after yesterday’s heavy-on-the-legs group training session.

Whinge, whinge, whinge.

What I should be doing is remembering that it’s okay to not get on the bike every single weekend. That I am allowed to have a rest. The weather also isn’t helping. It’s hard to get motivated to get out of bed when you know it’s only around 6 – 8°C and if there’s any wind at all it makes it feel even colder. I am looking forward to the day when going for a ride doesn’t involve putting on multiple layers of clothing in an attempt to keep warm. It’ll also be nice to not have to ride in the dark so much, although it is pretty amazing to see the sunrise. I’ve seen a few where the sky looks like it’s on fire. Still, not going to miss the numb feet (even with fleecy overshoes) or the cold ears.

There’s also no rule that says I have to go for a ride in the morning. Maybe I’ll feel motivated later in the day to go out and that’s fine too. At least it’ll be a little warmer.

I suppose there’s an obvious answer to what’s causing my lack of motivation – this being that I have to find a new place to live as the owner wants to move in. If I’d decided to move off my own bat I think I’d have a much more positive attitude about it. Having a deadline by which we must be gone is more than a little intimidating. However, my brother put it best when he said I was looking at this the wrong way and I should embrace it as an opportunity for a fresh start. And I think he’s probably right.

Right now I think a fresh start would be an excellent idea. I’ve found myself feeling angry so much of the time and I feel really dissatisfied with the direction my life has been taking. I’m not a fan of the person I’ve become in the last few months so this is an opportunity to do something about it. To a degree I feel that I have very little control over what happens in my life and going out on my own again is a way to wrest that control back. New home equals new opportunities and a chance to work out what I’m doing at my own pace without any outside pressure or influences. Financially it’s going to suck as living on your own isn’t cheap but I’m choosing to think of it as investing in my well-being.

My first reaction was to panic. Two months seems like such a short time to find somewhere to live. But panicking serves no one and I need to have faith that everything will work itself out. It’s happened before so there’s no reason to think it won’t happen again. I just have to keep telling myself that I will find somewhere to live and that there’s no need to freak out. Chances are it won’t be my dream home but I’m sure I’ll find somewhere that’ll be okay. Also, if I’m honest, as much I love this house, there are some thing I will not miss about it – like the rather loud religious chanting in Greek that’s being played next door right now.

This whole growing up thing sucks. It’s not fun when you realise you’ve actually made a bit of a mess of your life. Still, helps to remember that life is nothing but progression – gotta be with the whole moving forward.

Well, since I have discovered that although I can get them on, they’re actually too narrow for me to wear for any length of time. After much contemplation, I’ve decided to sell them. They were bought this year and are like new. There’s a few small scuffs on the soles but that’s it. You’d never know they’ve been worn. I’m sad to have to sell them but there’s no point me keeping them when I can’t wear them comfortably. They deserve to be worn and I know there’s someone out there who will love them. No box unfortunately (it got left in Los Angeles cos it was taking up too much room in my suitcase)

So… details are:
2008 womens genius 5 shoes
Size 39 (but they’re really a 38 and a small one at that).
For sale at the bargain price of $250 or nearest reasonable offer.
Located in Melbourne so local pick-up is an option.
Comment if interested or know of anyone who would be.