Springtime in San Francisco

It's all wrong, of course. I should expect it perhaps, here on the wrong side of the world, but it's warm here, and sunny, like a spring day. Jo and I sat outside a cafe and had coffee and cakes (A chocolate panne cotta with caramel, if you're interested.) We basked in the sunlight until it got a bit too hot - yes! Too hot! In December! It was like one of those lovely spring days you remember from years ago but which never actually seem to turn up. Sure, I've sat outside Cafe Delice in the sun, but usually with a jumper and a jacket. But this was t shirt weather and while I have to say it sort of felt nice, it really didn't feel right. I'd had a bit of laugh at Wilmslow's expense in the week, showing some San Franciscans the weather forecast which was grey and wet, and about 4 degrees. "Wow! Is that all day?" They asked. "No." I replied: "All week, and probably all month." But whatever you think of it, it's right. That's how it's supposed to be at this time of year.

Jo and I had a drink in Union Square - again, sat outside, without even a jumper on. That's it on the pic above. The building on the corner is the 4 storey Nike Shop, a citadel of sport. That's why the big Nike ad is lit up on the top there. Given that it is well into December and we were enjoying the Christmas lights, outdoor ice rink and a very traditionally decorated Macy's, it is really very odd. As were the palm trees with fairy lights! On the plus side, of course, there's no excuse for not riding, and I had a great ride out today, over the bridge and into Marin. Oscar and I went through Mill Valley and over to Tiburon, in perfect cycling weather. Oscar's nutrition strategy from the day before was playing into my hands beautifully. He'd eaten a blueberry Danish for breakfast, ridden 45 miles, then had two burgers and fries before a night on the lash. I bullied him into riding today. He was whining about his hangover, but I just told him to man up and get out on his bike, then I whipped him on every hill till the beer was sweating out of him so badly I could smell it. I didn't show him any mercy at all, and sent him home a broken man. A good days work, I thought!

Running on Empty

I had an interesting text from Jason last week, about his "Bullock's Smithy" run. He had set up a team to run it together, a small matter of getting a few people to commit to a 50 mile run across the moors on a cold, wet November day. There had clearly been a few issues to resolve, but he and his team had achieved it, finishing in 16th place, out of 150, in just over 12 hours. The text arrived while I was feeling pretty low, but was all the more impressive for that. He's a proper inspiration, Jason, but there is no way I'm going to run 50 miles! This is especially after reading his "rallying call" to his team which essentially said: "right you miserable bunch of bastards; I've got you this far so get out there and get it done!" Doesn't pull any punches, Jason.

I was feeling beaten up by my training. I'm on a strength phase, which involves doing everything to failure, pushing weights I can't manage and then doing more, until I lie, beaten, on the floor, unable to even get up. I felt rough on Friday, probably on the verge of overtraining but determined to push through this phase. I didn't have a good session, and was cursing at myself with my coach laughing at my self-criticism. "You crack me up. You're your own harshest critic. Give yourself a break, you can't be on top form every day." I know, but there is a difference between not being able to do something (which is perfectly acceptable) and how I felt on Friday, which was not wanting to do it. I didn't want to put in the effort, I didn't want to try for that last rep; I wanted to lie down and rest.