The Little Woody

I'll get a report up later today (not like I have a fat lot else to do, except pack my life into boxes but that's always best left until the very last minute) but a few photos have come my way courtesy of the weekend's support crew Laura Thompson who put up with my pre-race whining and post-race mood swings like a saint. She's also a dab hand with an iPhone camera.

Life: Take Three

I've written and deleted this post twice already as I find myself rambling inanely about rubbish so, I'll ramble inanely about rubbish but keep it short.

Training in Sheffield/living at home is not a good place for me to be mentally. I have no idea way, perhaps the lack of training partners, perhaps I regress back to a time when I was a fat kid who ate everything, who knows, but as I write I find myself sitting on the back end of 7 days of crappy training. The motivation I found in France and Germany a distant memory. For God's Sake, I only have 10 days until the end of the season but, just like April and May, I find myself not caring.

Long story short I was not cut out to be a full time athlete and I take my hat of to those who have the mental discipline to treat this like a job. It's something I cannot do. I will move back down to London next month and start work in October and, to be honest, I cannot wait. The structure of having a job gives my life outside work structure, a routine that I crave but for some reason cannot impose on myself. I'm sure psychologists could have a field day on this but it just seems to be the way my mind works.

I am looking forward to training at 6am again and having to hit the turbo at 8 in the evening. I am excited over the prospect of looking forward to Friday not because I can get drunk, but because it's so close to Saturday morning and Saturday morning means a long bike ride.

This is my third attempt at "life" post university, and I'm only 24. Teaching didn't work out, neither did sport, here's hoping the third time's the charm...