Back in to the buggy

For the first time this year, we dragged ourselves to the beach in Les Hemmes, France in the early days of July. It has been a hectic spring, with moving ourselves and friends, going to Finland and such, that we actually did not manage to catch a coef before this July. My dear.

It was such a nice feeling to get a taste of the sea breeze after the hot, suffocating city air. Though the sun had turned some of our friends already into lobsters, as they were making their way into happy tipsiness. Waffle attacked our load, and built the buggies ready for the following day.

Soon enough the hippie feels of the true Les Hemmes lured Waffle too among the rest of us. Guitars were brought out. Some songs with non-printable lyrics were sang until the beer quota for the night had been dealt with. All of us headed to our own abodes to sleep for the night. The wind next day was promised to be steady and mild.

I had not been driving a buggy for 2 years, ever since my wrist broke, by a freak accident caused by unseen moment of stupidity. Partially because of the pain, partially because I am a chicken with things related to getting back to saddle. Calm steady wind was good news to me! (The scared chicken side of me did not agree).

The morning came, Waffle and I made it a late one in our extremely comfy trailer. Everybody else in their tents or cars were up well before us. We ended up exploiting the situation, since the early birds had the coffee and breakfast ready and we just hopped from bed to table. Feel slightly bad about it.

Soon enough I had to face the realities and drag my buggy onto the sand. The beach was as close to perfect as it ever gets. The water had been minding its own business down in the sea for quite a while, so the beach was dry, smooth and firm. Buggy people were understandably very excited and most of them swooshed away with the wind in nanoseconds.

The wind wasn’t too brutal. Quite some of the people were dragging out their absolute biggest sails. To me Waffle dag out the 4 meter, as I was insisting I would definitely, absolutely not drive a 5. I was fairly scared while pulling up the harness and pressing down the helmet. My hands were shaking. At that moment I knew I was not gonna chicken out, I was gonna drive.

I soon had the kite hanging up in the air, and my butt wavering over the seat of the buggy. And surprisingly I was driving. I managed to figure out the direction of the wind and was off. It was such a leap over my barrier of fear, that I broke into tears.

I was heading to the seaside, and at some point I realized there was no recollection in my head of how to turn around.  Which was kind of a problem, since I was approaching the sea at some speed.  Thankfully the nature has given us something called muscle memory, which kicked in and I managed to safe myself from drowning, and headed for the dune again. Then I still had the task to figure out stopping. I managed, I didn’t kill anyone and didn’t hit a dune. I would call that a raging success!

As I had gotten the feels for it, I kept going to do some lines just to have it sinking in, getting myself feeling secure in driving again. And of course enjoying the wind and the smooth beach. Two years it took for me to get back to this point.

It was definitely a great feeling to get back into the buggy. Such a barrier I had built between me and driving. Now the easy wind and good wide beach made me confident enough to climb over it. I was proud of myself. Waffle was proud of me, running and shouting all over the beach like a mad man. Such a happy day!

The wind was dying towards the evening so we got our excuse to leave the beach and hit the roads before traffic jams.  Monday would be a working day again so getting home at a humane hour was a good idea.

 

 

 

 

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Will I Ever Get There? Project Half Marathon

Jogger, Runner, Mist

There was meant to be a half marathon by the end of the month May. In my case, there was not. You remember how I thought I was doing fine, with the old sports tracker, which lied? The depression of realizing how slow I actually have been is till looming over me. At this point I am barely managing to do 12 km runs at speeds of 7:30 minutes a kilometer. After which I am practically dead.

I have now launched a new training programme for the half marathon in Polar. With it I should be able to do it by the midway of September, if I remember correctly. I am pretty blue about it.

Otherwise things are great. I like the new watch, my shoes are causing no harm – even my knees let me be at peace, they only hurt a little every now and then after longer runs.  So I’ll be wobbling on, powering my jogs with frustration and hatred towards my pathetic physical abilities.

And Waffle?

Mrrpph!

He did it already. Right in schedule, like a machine. The last week of May he just took off after work and ran a 20 km loop, barely breaking a sweat (Ok, ok, there I lied, he did sweat quite a bit). And did it at a massive speed of 5:53 minutes per kilometer, it took him less than two hours.

Unfair! But in the same go, amazing!

Waffle seems to be hooked to the sport and is creating new goals for himself. Eventually maybe even going for a full marathon, but time will tell.

 

Project Half Marathon – More Gadgets and the Ugly Face of Truth

Polar, smart watch

Remember the activity tracker I bought for this project of running? The Polar A360? Mother on my wrist, commanding and nagging me to move etc.?

It is gone now, I assume it is leading an underground criminal organisation somewhere in the metro tunnels of Brussels. It slipped from my wrist one afternoon when I left work and has never been seen since. Polar might want to develop the wristband into something little sturdier.

After a brief grieving period, I bought a new gadget. I am still staying faithful to Polar, but upgrading the level of gadget. We are going smart with the M600, a smart watch. Blimey.

The watch has its own Android operating system, it is synced with my phone, Strava, Google Fit and of course Polar Flow. it also gives out more data and more accurate data. The basic things of course; activity levels, heart rate, distances etc. This thing also counts my steps per minute while running and it has built-in GPS, so my distances and speeds are recorded by a floating thing in space.

With the accurate data came the horrible truth with its ugly face.

Previously I had tracked my runs with the A360 and the crappy GPS of my old phone, which is on the same level of high-tech as a Russian potato. They gave positively satisfying info of me, running like a dream at 10 km/h for kilometres and kilometres on end.

Mwhahaha, said the new smart watch as it crumbled my sweet, sweet dreams. I barely can do 6 minutes 40 on a kilometre, which is 9 km/h. Ok, ok, now that I say it, it is not that bad at all, but it does dampen the moral a bit.

Polar training data
Gotta be rather happy with the steady heart rate though!

On top of the discovery of my real slowness, there has been some illness, some knee-related trouble and so forth, so I can tell you, there is no half marathon happening here in the end of May.

Waffle on the other hand is doing great. The damned miracle of a runner. He is almost there, running at around 11 km/h for distances of over 18 km. Just a little extra squeeze and he is done with the challenge.

He is not stopping there though. He wants to continue, until he breaks the limit of 25 km, then 30 km, and if that doesn’t hurt too bad, he’ll go on until a complete marathon. I’ll just keep on sacrificing things to the sacred spirits of running, so that my knees won’t let me down. If you have good tips on what those spirits like, I am eager to hear!

So here we have it. Is there anybody else running?