Posts Tagged ‘ Relief ’
Setting off in the
wee hours of the morning, when the roads are dark and empty, where
the air is cool and welcoming. Stillness pervades the air, but your
spirits soar. 
Riding 20km to
watch the sunrise, something I would gladly do everyday.
Perhaps it hasn’t sunk in yet, but what I feel now, is relief and a delayed sense of release. I don’t necessarily feel happier, but it made me realise how acutely unhappy I was.
Fitful sleep caused by the throbbing pain. Gave up on sleep and got up in the wee hours of the morning; chomped down some food for energy and headed out into the cool morning for a ride. I always take the same route on rides like this: when I go out on whim, simply wanting a hard workout. I rode hard, refusing to let the digits on the speedometer fall below 31km/h. This is all I can do now. No running, and I’m swimming against doctor’s orders. The ear infection has made me almost unable to hear in one ear, but maybe that’s good. I hear less of others with only one good ear, and the other ear is simply couched in silence, making own thoughts louder than ever. Perhaps this is what I need, to hear for once, what I really want, and not what others want of me. I hit Changi Coast Road and rode it hard, extremely hard. Thankful that there’s no pain, that at least I can still cycle. The feeling of liberation on the bike never fails to amaze me, from the first time i started cycling till today, the adrenaline rush still hits me, the speed still excites me. Simple pleasures in life that will always be there, that will hopefully, never change.
0630: Woke up to the customary screaming that has been a daily affair ever since the school year started. Bad beginning, good show, I told myself, hoping that the age-old adage was right. Chomped down a quick breakfast, grabbed my bike right under my parents’ nose and headed out into the cool morning. The ride to coastal was sort of a blank – I didn’t think about anything, neither do I remember much of it. But once I got to coastal, there were only three words in my mind: make it hurt. And make it hurt I did. The feeling is incredible when each pedal stroke sends numbing pain and ache through your quads, when each breath you take burns your lungs and every little increase in the numbers on your speedometer sends a shot of adrenaline that keeps you going. Your legs badly want to stop, but you push them down relentlessly, picking up more momentum and spinning faster till it hurts less. Then you shift down, your quads scream in pain again, and you repeat the cycle of forcing your legs to move in circles, faster and faster. Shift down. Pedal harder. Shift till you run out of gears. Pedal till the speedo reads 47km/h, mash the gears, burn the quads, till you finally reach bend that marks the end of a heart-pumping stretch. Easy. All the way through east coast park. Turn around, repeat. Make it hurt, make it hurt. Now your hamstrings start to protest, you stand up on the bike to get the momentum going. The headwinds are vicious, but it’s good, because it adds to the pain. You remind yourself: pain is weakness leaving the body. Mash the gears, all the way till the end, till your lungs feel as if they are about to collapse, till your legs are sore and heavy. Easy ride home; home is 20km away. Spin up the hills, pedal furiously downhill. Feel the wind, the adrenaline rush, the thrill of hurtling downhill over 50km/h. And if you’re lucky, somewhere along the way, the frustrations, the worries, the unhappiness gets thrown out and taken away by the wind. You feel release, along with exhilaration and slow-sinking sense of relief.
Many would tell you that triathlon is about pain. Ryan Hall would say, endurance sports is pain management.
I say, triathlon is pain relief.
