end of a full week

Another week over. That went kinda fast. But then it's been busy.

Band practice on Monday evening went well. Odds are looking good that we'll get through most of the set tomorrow without forgetting anything, but even if we do, we'll busk around it and it's probable nobody will notice. That's part the charm of live music.

I even managed to fit a 3k run in before the practice. It's the only one I've managed this week however.

On Tuesday evening it was great to have an excuse to put my white pyjamas back on. Got through my first hour back at karate without injuring myself, and didn't feel too wrecked afterwards. As expected, we're not yet allowed contact, so no sparring. So I wore my Garmin through the session to track my heart rate. Purely out of curiosity. 

It peaked at 160bpm, but averaged at 119 across the hour. Interestingly, Strava gives a "relative effort" score to any activities you track. An hour of karate came in at around the same kind of effort I had to put in to running the 3k on Monday. Which surprised me somewhat. Or maybe it didn't.

By comparison, racing the Laser for an hour in moderate conditions is about a third of the effort, but sailing Calstar from Plymouth to Fowey is about the same as an hour of karate, or running 3k. Again, I don't actually know if that surprises me.

Lies, damned lies and statistics is a phrase that springs to mind.

Wednesday evening was a slightly lighter load on the old cardio. The forecast didn't look exactly exciting, and they were stuck for a safety boat driver so I volunteered, manning the RIB to watch over the evening's racing with my mate Mark, a fellow British Moth and Albacore sailor that I might have mentioned before once or twice on this site.

I gave him my old DSLR to play with to keep him quiet. Some of the resulting pictures accompany this post, along with some stills from the GoPro that I clipped to my buoyancy aid. Turns out there was more wind than was forecast; I would've loved to have sailed in it. On the other hand, the view from the safety boat was quite pleasant.

Thursday was my second evening back at karate. Strava reports that I put in even less effort, but it lies. Or was, at least, misled. I tracked the session on my watch again, but forgot to press record until about halfway through. Before that, I noticed my heart rate peak at 177bpm, which just about tops anything I've seen whilst running.

They're just numbers, but I find metrics fascinating.

This morning, my left knee hurts, as in enough to leave me limping, which is unusual. I might've overdone things a little this week. Nikki, as ever, is a font of sympathy. Actually, now I lie. She just rolled her eyes when I complained, said it was self inflicted, and asked me to take the bins out.

She's not daft, that woman. Tonight I'm taking her out to dinner. I'm actually quite excited, as it'll be the first time we've been able to eat out in a restaurant this year.

First gig tomorrow night. It would be disloyal to suggest that excites me more. But as well as being far from daft, she's also a very understanding woman. 

Some would say she has to be, to have put up with me for so long.