There is a love/hate type relationship between myself and hotel gyms. I imagine it to be similar to the ever disappointing favourite sports team who eternally disappoint you, but you continue to return to them like a loyal dog each week. Every week the hunt is on to find a place with a bike trainer with a narrow saddle and a good display with the basics. So often the prize isn't found and the key card is inserted in to the gym's lock. The door slowly opens and reveals that creaky old bike. A small sigh later and I hop up and begin the mornings ride.
I don't think I have ever been so driven by the idea of a workout to be completed as when I find myself on such a machine. The sweet relief that ensues when dismounting this animal with a newly shaped arse can be very satisfying, tinged with the knowledge that next week will undoubtedly provide another hotel gym experience.
With a joyous and ever welcome recovery week in full flow, the wide saddled, awkward and uncomfortable hotel bike session was more forgiving this time around. A look forward to next week presents the ever ominous title of "IM Hard". Two weeks of unforgiving and relentless volume and then the welcoming views of "taper" come in to view. The week gets shorter and the fatigue gets better.
A quick look at the digital date brightly presented on my phone, jutting out like a flashing neon sign, suddenly seems a bit more significant now. A little over 5 weeks to go and the start line at the edge of Lake Couer D'Alene will lie right in front of us with the longest day ahead.
Good luck to us all!
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