This week the weather is unseasonably warm, the temperature rising above 80 degrees Fahrenheit. But the forecast is showing much cooler weather by the weekend.
It's hard to describe my reflections on this year. I've heard many people talk about how 2020 feels like it's dragging on forever, and there are moments when I feel that way too. And yet it seems like the summer just sort of came and went right under my nose. I engaged in none of the usual travel or adventure, and the lonely days became lonely weeks and... here I am, watching the weather get cooler and cooler and the daylight hours get shorter and shorter.
I mentioned over the weekend that it's about time to break out the cold-weather paddling clothes. The days of shorts and short sleeves are about over. So are the days of going out and surfing barge wakes: I'm much less willing to do that in the wintertime because of the hypothermia risk.
It's a little depressing, to be honest. I suppose I could fly back to South Africa and have fun there while the northern hemisphere shivers, but I'm afraid it's going to be at least another year before I feel comfortable cramming myself onto an airplane with a hundred or more other people. Maybe I'll find time for a trip to Florida sometime this winter.
Adding to my glum feeling is this pain in my neck that I can't seem to get rid of. I saw my chiropractor Monday afternoon and she made some adjustments and did some deep massage, but so far there has been no improvement. I'm scheduled to go back once a week for the next while, and I hope she can work the same magic she did with the plantar fasciitis I had for several years.
Yesterday morning I did a round of the strength routine before joining Joe for a loop of the harbor. I felt tired and our pace was even more leisurely than usual, and it took us a full 80 minutes to make the circuit.
This morning I went back to the river to do my last hard workout before I race on the Alabama Gulf Coast a week from this Saturday. My plan was to do some intervals of 75 seconds on, 45 seconds off, paddling each "on" period at sub-maximal intensity.
Meanwhile, the current balmy weather also had me longing for a last bit of surfing before winter settles in. So I made a deal with myself: if I found some barge traffic on the river, I would do eight of these intervals, and take a "break" from the workout to do some surfing; if the river was empty, then I would do ten intervals.
After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I headed out onto the Mississippi and saw a barge rig coming down from far upriver. So I started my workout while paddling upstream along the Tennessee bank. This 75/45 workout is an exhausting lactic-tolerance sort of affair, but I attacked it with gusto knowing I would have a "play workout" respite. By the time the barge rig reached me, I'd done six intervals.
Alas, my surf session turned out to be a dud. The waves behind the towboat were small, fast-moving, and wandering all over the place. And while my lungs were up to the hard sprints that surfing requires, my arm muscles were not because of the lactic acid I'd built up in them.
After a few minutes of trying my best, I headed back to the harbor. There I did four more of my 75/45 intervals. So I ended up doing ten of them after all. As hard as that workout is, it's also over quickly. After finishing the last one I paddled back to the dock with my mood elevated from the endorphin therapy.
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