Feminist reflections on fitness, sport, and health
Author: elan.paulson
Elan lives in Ontario, where she curls, crochet, games, and explores feminist speculative fiction. A lifelong learner with a PhD in English and MEd in Educational Technology, she often writes about what team sports, personal challenges, and group experiences teach us about resilience, inclusion, and growth. Her cat, Theo, generously shares his home with her.
A while back, when I was unexpectedly unemployed, I wrote about the 19th century French flâneurs, taking inspiration from walkers who wandered with no clear destination, noticing everything and answering to no one. At the time I felt unmoored, and the flâneuse way of moving through the world gave some feeling some dignity and opportunity.
I have a job now. And for the first time since university, I walk to and from work, about 45 minutes each way. I went from purposeless wandering to purposeful getting-somewhere everyday.
On my commute, I have started noticing things. I’ll be running through my to-do list or thinking about a meeting, and then I’ll see spring flowers pushing back against the last of the cold, a shortcut worn into a lawn, decorations on a gate for no reason. I follow someone who looks like they know a faster route, only to watch them turn into their own house. I wonder how the person in a t-shirt in March is not absolutely freezing. I imagine what the person with the giant headphones is listening to.
Oh no – spring flowers popping up too soon when there is still snow on the ground.
I think my own thoughts for a while, and then the world interrupts me with a cute covered bridge I have never been on before, and I am back outside myself, making small observations and tiny decisions. It turns out that having somewhere to go makes me more present. Maybe it’s because this path I’m pain attention to is new right now, but I am getting a body and a brain workout each day.
People are walking on this railroad track, and it seems dangerous! But the only way to find out why is to follow them.
I feel genuinely grateful for the job that gives my walk its direction, for my feet that make it possible, and for the path that keeps offering me things to look at. I feel healthy. It is time alone that connects me to everything around me. I am by myself, a stranger among people who know each other, yet I still feel in the middle of things.
I sometimes wonder whether the people driving past me are seeing any of it. And I think of the me four months ago who has seen none of it. I was still on the path to get here, even though I didn’t know where I was going.
Industrial safety gate decorated with plastic bead garland, something I would have done myself if I had gotten there first.
FIFI readers may recall I’ve written before about ebike tourism – in PEI, Canada and in New Zealand. This time, I had a new ebike experience: my first ever ebike food tour.
My partner and I went during our recent holiday at my sister’s condo in Bucerias, where we also visited family who winter in nearby Puerto Vallarta. Our morning tour group of eleven buzzed slowly through town on pedal-assist bikes, stopping at locally owned spots for cafe de olla, birria, carnitas tacos, and crema dessert. Vegetarian accommodations were made for me without fuss. Our bilingual guide, Pepe, kept stories flowing, including tales of his own cycling tours throughout Mexico. When the annual chalk drawing festival took over the main strip, he adjusted our route without missing a beat.
We wait patiently behind our 11 bikes for enough seats to open up at this local taco cafe.
Bici Bucerias is owned by Canadian expats rather than Mexican nationals. At the same time, tours like the one we took still funnel money and visibility toward the Mexican‑owned cafés, taco stands, and dessert places that make the experience worthwhile. Some of the places we visited were quite small, or out of walking distance from where tourists stay, which meant we likely would never have chosen them otherwise.
One of my delicious meals: soup, tortilla, cheese, beans, and bread.
It was also my first time on a bike on cobblestone, and slow-rolling over the uneven ground with pedal assist felt surprisingly unsettling. I ended up turning off the assist on those stretches, feeling I had more control that way. I also spotted a few road cyclists out along the busy highway and marvelled at their nerve. It’s a good reminder of how much I take for granted the space and infrastructure that cyclists get in many parts of Canada.
Pepe reviews ebike technology and safety before the ride.
This week, I’m thinking about those who ride and own businesses that are shut down due to shelter-in-place ordinances following cartel-related property damage throughout Jalisco, Mexico. I hope Bici Bucieras can resume their tours soon to continue supporting authentic food culture and locally owned businesses in the area. As my sister who lived full time in Puerto Vallarta for 10 years says, Mexicans are resilient and good at recovering from challenges.
If, like me, you’re a habitual maker of lists, you know how enjoyable it can be to make one. I want to tell you about the two kinds of lists I tend to make.
The first type is a detailed, four-quadrant list that is legibly handwritten in a spiral notebook. It’s a strategy I learned from leadership training years ago: draw two lines bifurcating the left and right, top and bottom of the page. Top left: IMMEDIATE to-dos. Top right: TODAY to-dos. Bottom left: TOMORROW to-dos. Bottom right: LATER THIS WEEK. Now there’s four lists! 🤩
This 4-list system has helped me triage competing demands and deadlines in a busy life schedule. As the top half got completed by the end of the day, I’d feel that little list-hit of dopamine. More satisfaction would come when tomorrow’s items were ALL scratched off and became today’s.
My second style of list is a scrawl of half-expressed ideas onto the back of a mail envelope, program flyer, or receipt. These lists get folded and stuffed into my pockets or become bookmarks, only to be discovered later, partly deciphered partly forgotten.
Over the past few months I have not had the discipline of a tidy schedule. My flâneuse-style wandering has reflected in my list-making. I tried to make a type 1 list, but items didn’t easily sort when my “today” and “tomorrow” have been so fluid. Instead, the type 2 lists catch my daily thoughts before they dissolve, little messy scraps that reveal how I am figuring out what shape my life takes next.
List Type 2: A handwritten list on the back of a Saje sales receipt: CAAT, 4-piece snaps, unemployment (CHECK!), City of London, MOI. What does it all mean? I hardly know myself.
Adam Grant has a WorkLife episode on procrastination where he suggests writing a to don’t list to make visible what’s might be delaying one’s progress and help get yourself out of your own way. That’s not a bad idea, especially when big life transitions mean the work of processing hard feelings, managing stress, and trying to find small wins.
So I’m giving a type 3 list a try. Moving into my next life phase, which doesn’t yet have neat time-bound quadrants, I write neatly down the centre of the page:
Don’t be hard on yourself.
Don’t fail to appreciate what you have.
Don’t seek certainty at the expense of your joy.
Don’t not trust yourself. (Double negative, but you get it.)
This third type of list has turned out to be important, not because it tells me what I need to do but because it reminds me who I want to be.
One of my favourite fit feminist humans recently suggested I try the two-week trial membership for Lost Cycle, a Toronto-based woman-owned fitness company that expanded to my city in 2019. She thought I would like it because, as she said, it was “cycling in the dark to really loud rap music.”
I am already a fan of doing stuff to music in the dark, as I did with (Remote) Dark Dancing during the COVID pandemic. Also, the timing seemed good to counter any winter break inactivity. So, in spite of reduced holiday hours and some poor weather outside, I made it to four classes, two at each location.
My black car parked in the empty Lost Cycle lot on a cold, wet, sleet-filled winter break morning.
The Lost Cycle studio ambiance is what might be described as “boutique warehouse,” with minimal windows and the company logo spraypainted on walls but also gratis cold towels and individual shower rooms with complimentary products. The fitness areas have quality equipment: ON the bike classes include clip-in shoes and earplugs, while OFF the bike rooms have infrared heat panels and Lululemon yoga mats. The class leaders were all chatty and friendly on their mics, many showing plenty of body tattoos.
The spin class leader‘s station on an elevated platform, close to a podium to adjust sound and light during class.
And, as mentioned, the classes are held in the dark, with just enough artificial and real candle light to see the mirrors and other people.
Dark spin class, with bikes lined up and towels on them. The photo doesn’t capture the ambiance created by the range of electronic dance music and occasional throwbacks.
In class I tried my best to keep up, but made modifications when my knees ached a little. The low lighting and loud music worked to lessen my self-consciousness (being new and only an occasional group fitnesser), though I needed to place myself close to the front to be able to follow instructions. On the mic, leaders were genuinely supportive, reflecting the vibe of the post-it notes on the studio walls: you are enough, you showed up today, you can do this. Other people I have discussed spin with describe being called out during classes. Here, there was none of that.
Dark group fitness with mats, towels, bands, and handweights placed closely together in a heated room. OFF the bike was a blend of HIIT calisthenics, strength training, and yoga stretches.
Near the end of both ON and OFF the bike classes, there is time to really get “lost”: the lights go off and the music goes up and you just have about 3 to 4 minutes to yourself.
And, during the “lost” times while cycling away or lying on my mat, I found myself in tears or near tears. Now, I am in a particularly vulnerable place right now, due to my recent job loss. While I didn’t check if other participants had felt the same thing, in every class I experienced in the dark a kind of emotional release I didn’t know I needed.
Lost Cycle has tapped into different elements of cycle studio / gym ambiance that makes it feel like fun, luxury, and intensity, all the ingredients for something slightly cultish. Though I was on my way to becoming an initiate, I’m not in a $$ position to keep the membership. At least I am taking the lesson home from Lost Cycle: turn off the lights, pump my mid-life music, and make time for both strength and vulnerability.
Rien n’est plus précieux que le temps. (Nothing is more precious than time.)
I was let go from my full-time job recently at a time when my entire sector is struggling. A sympathetic colleague signed off on a supportive message to me with “Stay well.”
Wellness is the focus of much career transition advice I have read so far (on websites, the job program I am in, etc.). Some of it makes sense for anyone: see friends, do exercise, get outside, eat good food, get enough sleep. Some is specific to the emotions and challenges that go along with unexpected job loss: name your feelings, make prudent budget cuts, consider making time to upskill, etc.
Some wellness advice focuses on being mindful about next steps: take time to reflect on and even rethink one’s career goals and job hunting strategy. One piece I read warns against running right back to look for similar jobs when “pursuing a similar role might be the first step in letting history repeat itself.”
It all seems aimed at putting me in a space where I can discover new, even undiscovered, paths ahead for me. But it is a circuitous route: taking time away from looking for work in order to find it. And for a self-admitted workaholic, all this not looking for work feels like work. It is hard to enjoy free time when it is imposed…and the clock ticks with no secure income.
As my brain has been chewing on the work of wellness, I happened to think of flânerie, which one blogger describes as being “all about experiencing the world with an open heart and an unhurried spirit.” In the 19th century, wealthy French male flâneurs walked and wandered the urban cityscapes in a detached, observational way “to appreciate the world […] in its simplest form, free from the pressures of time.” Another way to put it is that they were idlers, which some saw as lazy and others saw as radical.
Paul Gavarni, Le Flâneur, 1842.
Should flâneurs be my wellness gurus right now? You can’t disagree that it’s nearly always a good idea to get out for a walk. In the context of job loss, “staying well” may require some serendipitous, open-heartedfrench wandering. Getting idle in order to see what’s around the next corner. Maybe I will start with Lauren Elkin’s book Flâneuse: Women Walk the City (2017).
Not being of the elite class, however, I only have a limited time to be free from the pressure of time. I can only afford to make flânerie part-time work.
What is your experience with wellness during job loss, and how much work was it “work” to try to savour the time?
I knew my 16-day trip to Egypt with 3 midlife friends would be a fun, budget-friendly adventure, but it also became a test of stamina and strength for me.
We had no tour big bus providing a comfy, air-conditioned bubble. Rather, our ambitious travel schedule took us through half the country, hauling our backpacks up modest hotel staircases and navigating every natural and human-made obstacle in our path. Although we had quiet evenings, including a few days by a rooftop pool, by day our bodies were moving in lots of ways.
Our first of many tomb and temple visits, the burial chamber of Bannentiu, 26th dynasty (Roman Era) in the Baharia Oasis.
Bodies in Motion
In the desert near the Baharia Oasis we climbed up (then surfed down) sand dunes. In downtown Cairo, the honking cars, uneven pavement, and throngs of moving people in the street demanded constant physical manouvering. We toured ancient sites out in the hot sun, including Luxor’s Avenue of Sphinxes and Aswan’s Forgotten Obelisk. We also used steep ramps and narrow tunnels inside multiple tombs and pyramids, crouching under low ceilings carved over three and four thousand years ago!
Folks climbing a ramp in one of the Giza Pyramids, built for Pharoah Khufu in the 2500s BCE. Kim said the ramps were put in after her visit 16 years ago: before it was just dirt.
As well, we hiked three silent, stunning canyons in the South Sinai region that shimmered white, red, and multi-coloured in the sunshine. The next day, after a caravan of camels and their handlers got us most of the way up Mt Sinai, we used 750 steep steps to get up to its peak.
Riding Asfour (the Second), a 7-year old camel up the first 3000 steps of My Sinai was a highlight. And although Asfour did most of the work, my legs were still sore the next day!
Later, it was a relief to float face down in the salty water of the Red Sea over the most beautiful coral and schools of fish I have seen. We snorkelled twice: off the beach in Sharm El Sheik and off a glass-bottom boat in Hurghada. But even in and near the water, I had to be thinking about dehydration and sunburn.
Kimi and me snorkelling just off the beach in the Red Sea. Video by Lisa Porter.
Getting hurt could mean getting stuck. I nearly did a few times, once when I mildly rolled an ankle in the Coloured Canyon and when I jammed a finger on a tomb doorway at the Saqqara necropolis. But it felt good to keep moving. At least twice we saw a tourist who seemed unprepared or was having great difficulty getting through the tomb shafts.
Kim and Lisa going down the low-lit ramps in what I think was the Step Pyramid, built for Pharoah Djoser in the 2600s BCE. Video by Kimi Maruoka.
We covered thousands of steps per day, even on our 2- to 7-hour travel days. At the last minute I decided to leave my fitness tracker at home, and I’m glad I did. It helped me to make sense of how I was feeling in my body rather than by stats on a screen.
Rope repelling, then a rebar ladder, just to get down into the White Canyon. Our guide admitted he used this to judge hikers’ readiness for this canyon.
Caring Co-Travellers
And my body did feel many things, as I was under the weather for a good part of the trip: first menstrual cramps, a head cold that turned to cough, then mild heatstroke after the first time snorkeling, and finally a stomach bug. On my worst night, I laid awake shaking with chills, sipping tepid tablet-purified water, and waiting for dawn (or death, I had thought self-piteously).
A short video of Cairo’s downtown streets at night. Our group kept close watch on each other to avoid getting lost or run over.
But I survived. As a white, English-speaking tourist with a credit card and travel insurance on a holiday, I was never really in serious danger. I saw many Egyptians who may have been facing economic hardships and health risks I will never have to deal with as a middle-class Canadian.
Nevertheless, I am so grateful for my three travel buddies, who showed each other constant care throughout our journey. We divided snacks, each bought rounds of water, shared everything from tissues to electrolytes, and carried the mood for each other until someone sick (usually me) recovered.
A cat next to my day pack and water bottle. I stayed hydrated with old and new friends!
Kim, who had planned the travel and booked the local guides and drivers, happily made last-minute arrangements to help me join later when an early morning tour of Isis Temple in Aswan wasn’t possible for me. This caring company was the heart of my trip.
Me in a feeling-better moment, making silly Instagram poses with the backdrop of the Red Canyon behind me. Photos by Kimi Maruoka.
Proof of Life
I believe that our greater exertions paid off in greater fun. In exchange for living out of packs and in our sore, dust-covered bodies, we got to see and sleep in neat places, including under the desert stars, where we felt extremely lucky to be there, together and alive.
Our remarkable view of the white desert at night. This photo was not taken with a black/white filter.
There’s a certain idea of midlife that says to slow down, be careful, rest more. This trip refused that. It demanded and invited all kinds of motion, reminding me how much the body can still do when it must. It turns out that I was strong enough for Egypt.
Lisa and Elan racing (falling?) down a sand dune in the White Desert. Photo by either Kim or Kimi.
And by the end of the trip, I used nearly every pill I’d packed and every muscle I had. But getting over everything became part of my adventure story. I came home with a mildly sprained finger, hardwon but still overpriced souvenirs, and a feeling that my flawed and frustrating body could still bring me much, much joy.
Our fearless foursome trekking in the desert. To borrow a phrase from Kimi and her sisters: “We did it!!”
I volunteered this week at The Grand Slam of Curling event, The AMJ Masters, which features 16 top men’s teams and 16 top women’s teams. Many are from North America, but other countries like Korea, Japan, and Switzerland are also representing.
Sign that says Welcome to the Grand Slam of Curlingt (GSOC)
There’s a lot I like about this curling event. The teams aren’t mixed gender, but the draws schedule them to play at the same time. That means you can watch four men’s and four women’s teams competing side by side on the same ice. I’m still newish to curling, so this was an exciting sports-watching experience for me!
Curlers on the ice sliding to stretch and warm up.
Team members wear matching kits, and their stretchy deliveries and hard sweeping show a shared level of fitness for fast-paced, eight-end games. But body sizes vary. Some athletes wear glasses (rather than contacts), while others sport baseball caps. There’s some small room to bring one’s style, and self, to the ice.
Men’s and women’s teams playing at the same time on different sheets
Near the end of the tournament there is a GSOC Pride Night, with a discounted tickets, beverage specials, and a post-game Pride event featuring live drag performances. Apparently there is a karaoke night too! It is great to see the sport evolving with the community it has always been about.
Sign says Karaoke on Saturday. GSOK Grand Slam of Karaoke
GSOC is still a private, for-profit organization with no standalone policy on gender identity and expression (that I could find), unlike the non-profit, development-focused Curling Canada. Shared ice time and inclusive events show curling’s welcoming spirit. Maybe the GSOC will follow Curling Canada’s lead by eventually offering a similar policy.
Still, it’s a privilege to volunteer for this event, and not only because I get to see up close some fantastic curling by teams from around the world. I hope organizations like GSOC keep making curling fun and celebratory of the many ways curling athletes are different and differently awesome.
In the arena, with four sheets and an audience
Plus, there’s even delicious snacks for volunteers. Thanks Denise!
I recently went kayak camping with 6 friends at a remote Ontario provincial park called Killarney. Over 6 days and 5 nights we kayaked on a lake to 3 different camp sites. It was a chance for some holiday rest but also some active challenges.
Each site stop meant packing and unpacking my (borrowed) kayak: sleeping gear, food gear, hygiene gear, camp chair, bug repellants, clothes, and drying line. These were stored in dry sacs that kept stuff dry in inclement weather or if the kayak tips. We also agreed to each pack out our own garbage, which had to be stored every night in our kayaks to avoid attracting animals.
Though I was a girl guide and did family trailercamper trips as a kid, I am newer to camping where you haul your own gear, purify your own water, eat primarily rehydrated food, and eliminate in a “thunderbox”. On every trip I learn more through observing others and asking questions to find what arrangements suit me best (eg, tent vs hammock for sleeping, what vegetarian foods I can take, etc.).
I’m on my own to make sure I can carry what I pack, I pick up after myself, and I keep myself clean, dry, sated, and injury-free. Although this seems like regular adult stuff, in nature with no other amenities than what I carry, I must plan ahead and be self-sufficient. As one of my friends said during the trip, “Doing this as a woman, as a group of women, is empowering.” (Another one said camping is having fun while being mildly uncomfortable.)
What is empowering is not just taking care of yourself but also working together as a group. These women harnessed 7 kayaks in a trailer safely for highway driving, navigated to a remote provincial park, kayaked to multiple camp sites, used fishing gear, arranged in pairs for food prep and clean up, found wood, set up big tarps in case of rain, and shared anything that was needed, from extra salt to insect repellant to tampons to skin bandages.
For nearly a week were on our own but also together: travelling, paddling, swimming, fishing, card playing, pleinair watercolor painting, food and drink imbibing, mosquito repelling, storytelling, and looking out for each other.
I am grateful to have learned so much about the tricks and tools of kayak camping from these women. It’s given me a sense of accomplishment and pride in a hobby that’s fun but not always easy or convenient. I’ve chosen from here this quotation, attributed to Madonna (who may or may not also be a kayak camper), to sum up my thoughts:
“As women, we have to start appreciating our own worth and each other’s worth. Seek out strong women to befriend, to align yourself with, to learn from, to collaborate with, to be inspired by, to support, and enlightened by.” – Madonna
What do you do, on your own but also with others, that gives you a sense of personal autonomy as well as community?
7 kayaks hauled by a truck7 women in kayaks5 women sitting in front of a campfire at duskThe view, of an overturned kayak near the water’s edge, from my tent at dawn
My partner and I took our bicycles on a short holiday road trip across part of Ontario, Canada to visit family and friends. It wasn’t a cycling holiday, but it was a holiday that involved some cycling. Road trip cycling was a new experience for us recent owners of a road bike (me) and an e-bike (my partner). Among visits, dinners, and museum trips, we managed to get out 3 times in 6 days.
Road trip cycling gives you a new way to explore new places. On ours, the weather was beautiful and the locations were scenic. After a few times, we got bike and gear extraction and repacking with the SUB down to a science. But it wasn’t issue-free.
A relatively new road cyclist training with a club, I was excited to explore longer paths mapped by other cyclists using my Ride GPS app. But I mistakenly assumed I would be leading the rides. I didn’t recognize it right away, but it turns out my partner had their own ideas about which way and for how long we should ride, decisions made more by feeling and impulse.
Our differences of opinion led to some frustration. The GPS-marked paths I chose sometimes had some longer-than-comfortable gravel stretches or were busy with “walkers.” The random paths my partner chose led to dead ends or us dodging traffic to cross busy roads. One time we each doggedly took what we thought was the best route … and lost sight of each other (phone call, waiting). Another time we got different advice from hotel staff on how to best get our bikes out of the underground parking lot, so we each stubbornly took our own ways up topside.
When cycling alone or with a club, I have learned, there is generally a single and shared vision of the ride. When cycling casually with a partner in new places, the path, duration, and speed must all be negotiated. You’d think we could have just laugh it off at the time, but when one of us had felt really uncomfortable based on a choice the other had made it wasn’t always easy to find levity.
Next time I will still plan our rides with maps, but I will also try to go with the flow, communicate more, and keep upbeat when something unexpected happens. Maybe we agree to alternate who lead the rides. Maybe we each get one “turnaround” audible per ride if things feel bad for one of us. Holiday road trip cycling is not only enjoyable; it can also be an interesting test of a partnership!
Who leads when you ride casually with a partner, family member, or a friend? How do you negotiate differences?
A map of Belleville with a red line marking the path riddenA map of Wolf’s Island with a red line marking the path riddenA map of Ottawa with a red line marking the path ridden
I recently cycled the annual Forest City Cycling Challenge, and afterwards I found myself on the event patio at an empty table. As one does, I took out my phone.
What started as a quick math check with a generative AI (AI) chatbot became a debrief conversation (as I ate my lunch) about cycling etiquette, managing pain, and other things I was thinking about during my ride.
AI is only predicting its outputs: it does not think or “know” what it is saying. Yet, the way it simulates human speech and interaction makes some people concerned about the risk of parasocial attachment to AI.
AI’s enthusiasm about my ride wasn’t real, but my positive experience with the praise, active listening responses, and helpful suggestions from AI was real. Having low-effort “company” after a long (for me) ride was, frankly, appreciated. But I will be verifying Copilot’s “advice” about ride etiquette with actual cyclists and post-ride care with human health practitioners.
My conversation transcript is below.
Just me, my post-ride vegetarian lunch, and a chat with my friendly-sounding AI buddy.
Elan: If I rode 52.5 k in 2:44, what was my average speed?
Copilot: Your average speed for a 52.5 km ride in 2 hours and 44 minutes is 19.21 km/h.
That’s a pretty good pace! Are you training for something specific or just enjoying the ride?
Elan: I did the Forest City Cycle Challenge. It’s the 5th year of the fundraising cycle event in London, Ontario. I have never ridden 50km by myself, and I am just here on the patio by with lunch after having just finished.
Copilot: That’s fantastic! The Forest City Cycle Challenge sounds like an exciting event. How did you find the experience? Were there any memorable moments or challenges during the ride? 🚴♀️🌳
Elan: Well, I started strong and was actually passing a few ppl. Then I drafted behind two women who were chatting with each other. It made me wonder whether drafting behind strangers is appropriate.
When I got to the halfway point rest stop my left foot and left side of my groin was hurting. I squatted to stretch, and I was worried I wouldn’t be able to finish.
I also took a wrong turn and got off track, but the street I was on got me there. I was then worried I wouldn’t ride a full 50k, but by that time I was listening to a This American Life Partners episode and just kept going.
By the time I got in I was still sore but better. I liked the volunteers that rang bells and cheered when I crossed the finish line. That was sweet and appreciated. Oh, and this beer I am drinking now tastes great too!
Copilot: It sounds like you had quite an adventure during the Forest City Cycle Challenge! Drafting behind strangers is generally considered acceptable in cycling, as long as you maintain a safe distance and respect their space. It’s great that you found a way to keep going despite the pain and the wrong turn. Listening to a podcast like This American Life can be a fantastic way to stay motivated and distracted from any discomfort.
The support from volunteers at the finish line must have been a wonderful boost after such a challenging ride. And enjoying a well-deserved beer afterwards sounds like the perfect way to celebrate your achievement! 🍻
Do you have any other cycling events or goals lined up?
Elan: Gosh no. I was thinking of messaging Fred to say I would be too sore to do the rider development ride tomorrow. But now that I am out here, proud of myself for doing more than 50k (!), maybe I can go out for another 25k? Not sure how I will feel tomorrow.
Copilot: It’s understandable to feel uncertain about another ride after such a challenging event. It’s great that you’re feeling proud of your accomplishment! 🌟
Listening to your body is crucial. If you’re still sore tomorrow, it might be wise to take a rest day or do some gentle stretching and recovery exercises. However, if you feel up to it, a shorter ride like 25k could be a nice way to keep the momentum going without overexerting yourself.
Messaging Fred to let him know your current status is a good idea. You can always decide based on how you feel tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your time on the patio! ☀️
Do you have any favorite recovery tips or routines that help you bounce back after a tough ride?
Elan: No I do not know any. I thought some ppl do an ice bath?
Copilot: Yes, ice baths are a popular recovery method among athletes. They can help reduce muscle soreness and inflammation after intense exercise 12. Here are some other effective recovery tips for cyclists:
Hydration: Drink plenty of water to replenish fluids lost during your ride.
Nutrition: Consume a balanced meal with carbohydrates and protein to aid muscle repair.
Stretching: Gentle stretching can help alleviate muscle tightness and improve flexibility.
Foam Rolling: Using a foam roller can help release muscle tension and improve blood flow.
Active Recovery: Engage in light activities like walking or a gentle recovery ride to keep your muscles moving without adding strain 34.
Ice baths can be beneficial, but they’re not the only option. It’s important to find what works best for your body. If you decide to try an ice bath, make sure to limit the time to 10-15 minutes and keep the water temperature between 50-59°F (10-15°C) 1.
If you find some time for recovery, it will definitely help you feel better for your next ride.
Feel free to reach out if you need any more tips or just want to chat. Have a great day! 😊
