Sunday, May 30, 2021

Back to (ab)normal


 

After watching the weather forecast last night, we were looking forward to going out for a bike ride on the lovely day that the lady on TV had mentioned.

 

So after a leisurely coffee whilst catching the news headlines, we were more than happy to be able to get out on that rare, not too hot, not too windy, not too chilly day that hardly ever occurs on a bank holiday weekend in a seaside resort like Littlehampton. We are lucky to have a half decent cycle path running away from L.A as the locals call it; the H is silent here abouts, so that was the way we started out, toward Bognor Regis and Chichester. We passed several friends also out on there bikes but they were on their way back. One of them sporting the new Tuff Fitty Triathlon Club Bike shirt that was in a new colourway after many years of their dark blue kit. The bright ‘Pink’ version, will make their club members much easier to spot during races, Steve and I both thought it was a good move and a huge improvement.  

 

I wear long sleeves even in summer most of the time since, at my ripe old age, my skin is very sensitive and as thin as tissue paper, so I cannot do with catching the sun. Every other exposed area of skin is plastered with sun block, which does seem to work. I have suffered sunburn in too many long events. My skin wrecked by those long hot days.


 

Today proved to have the busiest traffic ever seen in this part of the world, as if today was June 21st already and simply everybody had taken their Freedom Day early and anybody who owned a car was indeed out driving it around; sadly many of them had forgotten how to drive with any respect for other drivers, and pedestrians and most certainly seemed to be out to get cyclists. A good cycle path is wonderful, but the points where the roads have to be crossed between one section and the next, are pretty close to death traps, since of course there cannot be lights at every crossing but a little consideration wouldn’t go amiss. The world is a bad mannered, foul mouthed place at times, I had not realised that motorists kept their windows open, just so they could shout abuse.

 

On the way home we took a short detour to get a coffee, at about 11 am. We like The Boat House which as it name suggests, is right by the river, by the now quite tiny harbour and near the old shipyards, most of which have long been converted into this and that. 


 

 

When Steve went inside, with his mask on, to order, Julie the owner/manager, said we could have just coffee, but that they still serving breakfast and were shortly starting to serve lunch. Mmmmm….. Breakfast …… Not something we normally have. Steve ordered egg on bubble and squeak with bacon on the side. The boat house is not a ‘greasy spoon’, no not at all, it is a class act as cafĂ©’s go, and the dish when it was served, looked better than most things served to the celebrity guest’s, on The Saturday Kitchen on TV. We sat under a parasol on the terrace and really enjoyed this rare, beautifully presented treat.  

 

We didn’t go directly home when we left The Boat House but rode our bikes along Rope Walk to the mouth of the River Arun at West Beach to take a look, and a few photos from the riverside toward the main tripper’s beach on the other side of the river. It was slightly worrying sight since the first breakwater on the other side, right next to what is in fact, the second fasted river in the country. The tide was out as far as it goes and holiday makers fresh from Lockdown one assumes, had taken their precious children right to the edge of the water line just yard or so from the point where the river meets the open sea at its very narrow mouth. The kiddies were having a whale of a time playing on the sand. Where the tide would soon be on the turn and start rushing up river, in it’s usual entertaining fashion toward todays high tide at 3.10 pm I believe.

 

There are large signs, mostly ignored by day trippers, advising that that first beach on the East Beach can be dangerous at high water.

Or maybe I am just an old worrier.

 

It is only two miles from our home to the beach, so we didn’t have far to ride back and were both very happy to have had such an enjoyable morning.


 

 

 

Sunday, May 23, 2021

Time heals everything.


 

Eton Dorney Lake Sprints last weekend was a ‘great to be back’ celebration.

It was a qualifier for the Worlds Sprint Championships to be held in Bermuda in 2022.

Of course, I was thrilled to manage to gain a slot for that event.

 

The incident with the dog bite happened not long afterwards and my day ended in the Urgent Treatment Unit at Worthing Hospital, where I was given excellent treatment.

They cleaned out the wounds, actually nine or ten punctures from that bite some worse than others.

I was given and an anti-tetanus jab and a course of anti-biotics the last of which I have just take with a cup of hot chocolate and a few biscuits.

 

I confess that I felt totally wiped out the next day with the shock of the encounter which was bit of a surprise since I thought I was made of sterner stuff.

 


 

Looking in the mirror when we got home had not helped and the next morning there were of course scabs all over my mouth and chin area and because my face had swollen it felt very tight and any movement was uncomfortable. My left cheekbone and the right side on my chin are still a bit tender.

My husband, who I often call St. Stephen proved that the affectionate name had been earned over the years and all this week he has cooked tasty baby food for me, everything chopped very finely so that I did not have to stretch the scabs and back them beleed again. He has babied my all week.

 

                     Saint Stephen on his Bike at Eton Dorney lake last weekend

We have only been for a few walks rather than any running and obviously with scabs all round my mouth and nose I have not been able to go swimming this week, which is normally the nicest post-race recovery plan. There were a few shaky days and I admit that I was a bit shocked.


Now, one week later, some of the scabs have dropped off but some are still sticking it out on my face to prevent an early swim training resumption.

However, I do feel much better and more comfortable as the swelling has gone down.

 

                                                       Bernadette Peters

Time heals everything; or so the words of the Jerry Herman song from the musical Mack and Mabel says.

The song is about lost love, and that will not heal quickly as many of us know, maybe never.

 

The little scars that will remain on my face will however, be completely un-notice within the mass of my octogenarian wrinkles.

I am hoping that a week from now the rest of the unsightly scabs will have dropped off.

 

The happy times will be back soon; they will, I’m sure.

Yesterday Steve and I met a few of our triathlon friends out in the woods, some dog walking and others digging in to some training for when our super friendly sport of triathlon reaches a state of normalcy once more.

may that day come soon but until then keep a mask in every pocket.

 


                                                   The only way is UP

 My last big race was at the end of summer 2019.

Long before the Covid invasion, I was hugely happy with the races that concluded my race season that year.

Steve and I drove home from the ITU World standard distance triathlon championship in Lausanne Switzerland both overjoyed that I had manged to win my tenth World championship title in my age group, which after all is 80-84.

I was the only woman in the group to reach the finish line, well actually none of my other competition even made the bike cut off.

The weekend after that I was not be supported by my husband/coach since he had to go away in his truck for a work trip. I would be in good company though because the next race up weekend after ‘Worlds’ was ten minutes from my home and I would have lots of local friends also racing there.

My run pal came to cheer me on which was marvellous for me.

It was The Raw Energy Pursuits who were holding the BTF National Aquathon championships, a swim and run on local road and pathways.

Finishing at the well know Black Rabbit pub and restaurant on the banks of the River Arun where the swim course was.

 

The final event of 2019 for me was Brighton and Hove triathlon.

Steve and I have both raced that several times.There is very little travel involved being half an hour away from home and no costly overnight stay. We both love that race and it was a qualifier for the ETU Olympic dist, Championships 2020 in Tartu, Estonia.

None of us knew then what a disaster was on the horizon that would bring our triathlon world to a close for a while.

18 months actually.  

As to the title today please go to YouTube and find Bernadette Peters sings this Jerry Herman most marvellous song, that is such agony. Time Heals Everything.

Being unable to hold the ones you love is unbearable.  I love the Mack and Mabel show.

 Time heals everything
Tuesday, Thursday
Time heals everything
April, August

If I'm patient the break will mend
And one fine morning the hurt will end

So make the moments fly
Autumn, winter
I'll forget you by
Next year, some year

Though it's hell that I'm going through
Some Tuesday, Thursday, April, August
Autumn, winter, next year, some year
Time heals everything, time heals everything
But loving you…