Wednesday, 15 February 2012
One - sometime in January 2012 ...
A year ago, I had a beautiful baby girl.
A year ago, I decided to get back on my bike and get fit.
A year later ... it was again my New Year’s Resolution. Why on earth has it taken a year?
Well, things were a little easier, once upon a time. Delayed responses are now the stories of my life. Everything I do, post-Willow, takes longer: drinking a cup of tea, making meals, getting dressed, going out, coming home. In fact, sometimes in the past year, I haven’t even been dressed all day. Straightening my hair and painting my nails are things of the past. So, getting out on my bike? Well, that hasn’t happened much, either.
It took enough time, pre-Willow, to get out on my bike, especially in the cold. I was notoriously good a faffing and I have just become better at taking my time to change into my cycling kit. Now, I have the added challenges of finding something I have washed, getting dressed while a mini-person is sucking on my leg warmer, soaking it with drool. I should be rushing because having Willow has made me and my husband more efficient at doing things. That is a euphemism for ‘we don’t really have the time.’ When I have my hour slot to do some sport, I should be rushing to make sure I get it and make the most of it. But that takes more effort ... Then, there is the bike maintenance. The what? I’ve taken to the turbo because it is clean and mostly maintenance free.
But, the thing that has made me struggle the most has been guilt. I have a job and my baby goes to the onsite crèche or the grandparents on my working days. I treasure the time I do have with her so should I really be spending more time away from her and being on my bike? That has been the most persuasive bike deferrer. Her drool and mess and demands seem to captivate me more than the pushing of pedals. I dream of the idealistic concept that I am hers, all day and every day. Until ...
A few weeks ago, she was chewing on the laces of my off-road trainers: they were clean, very clean, very unworn; and, I realised, I need to be doing sport – I need to be on my bike. I have a daughter who needs to know that sport is life. And, who will teach her that? Me.
Turbo, I am on my way ...!