Racing is in my blood.

I thought I'd drop a quick note to tell the world that I'm doing fine. The homesickness is slowly fading away as things are starting to get pretty serious down here with all the races that are lined up weekend after weekend. Yesterday was the start of my season. 

I've settled in a cosy home with a 60 year old lady as a flatmate and we share absolutely nothing in common except for the love of being alone and sleeping early. Wanted to buy a used car for $800 but when I went to inspect it at someone's backyard, I found the car pretty shady. The interior roof lining was falling apart, the car smells of smoke and there were a few pieces of McDonald's fries under the seat which still looked pretty golden but I think they've been there for months, if not years. I mean, what do you expect from an $800 car right? I didnt get it. I wouldn't know where to rake up an extra $800 anyway.

Funds are running pretty low, but what's new right? I try not to let it worry me too much but when I push these worries aside, they come and haunt me when I'm not doing much, which is like most of the time. I am still paying rent, meals and transport from my own savings which makes all these fancy pantsy let's shower our local athletes with support you hear seem like a fairy tale story. I wish I can just think about training but I guess if things don't push you, you won't grow. You start to depend on others. You start to become weak and needy. I guess it's an opportunity for me to grow. I want to learn, I'm hungry to gain more knowledge on how to earn without distracting me from my training. Nothing good ever comes easy, they say. The hard is what's gonna make this all worth it- I always, always, always remind myself.

The last time I raced was in Korea 4 months ago at the Asian Games. That wasn't even racing. That was me trying to be someone I wasn't. That wasn't the Aisyah Rower I know, neither was she the girl with big dreams you know. That was someone I've decided to leave behind in 2014. But moving forward to the race yesterday,  it's really interesting how you know you've done this at least a hundred thousand times, for 10 freaking years, and yet, the jitters that you get for every single race just scares you! In this game, experience doesn't make it any better. As you go up a level, it doesn't get any easier. But still, you do it. Can someone explain to me why?

At the start line, my heart was pounding so hard and so fast I could actually feel the beat pulsating through my fingers which were wrapped around my oar handles. I was nervous, for sure, but it was a damn good feeling. It was a feeling I hadn't felt for a very long time. It was love.

The love for the adrenaline that gushes in my blood when I get nervous and excited at the same time and it makes me feel so stoked. The love for the way my heart pounds at the start line. The love for the pain in my legs when the lactic starts to seep in them. The love for the way my lungs scream for air when I start to pant hard. The love for the way I make the boat glide on water. The love for the silly things I tell myself when I feel like I'm going to die anytime soon. The love for pushing myself and going beyond what I thought I can. The love for crossing the finish line knowing that I'm totally spent and there's nothing more that I could have given. The love for racing. The love for the sport.

It almost brought me to tears when I finished the race yesterday. I didn't win, neither was I last. But yesterday wasn't about the position I came in. What made the hugest impact on me was the fact that I fell in love again. It made me realise that this is what I was made for, this was what I was born to do. 

It is probably the cheesiest thing you've ever heard but for months, I was trying to find out what makes a good athlete better, and the better ones become the best. I felt that there was something missing in my life. And then yesterday happened and I felt alive, for the first time in many, many months. It was a beautiful moment. There wasn't a medal hanging around my neck, neither was was an applause or even a pat on my back for a good race. But right there, I felt happy. 

Alhamdullilah.

To many more races to come, and to be conquered.

xx

The Jindabyne Camp

So I'm gonna skip the part where I came back to Sydney to train.

And talk about the part where I decided to participate in a training camp, which is one of the most painful events I've ever gone through in my entire life.

So this is what it's like to be an elite athlete in one of new south Wales's best rowing club. Mind you, it is not even the national team. 

This is what it's like to have a proper, serious shit training camp. 

This is what it feels like to die.

Every single fkg day.

And I'm sorry if you shudder and gasp in horror when I say the 4 letter word but you'll understand why I will be using the word ever so often in this post.

Jindabyne is 5 hours away from Sydney by land. I met james with his 1989 volkswagon van at mosman on Saturday morning bright and early at 530am. His radio and bluetooth in the van wasn't working and there wasnt any air condition and it was in the middle of summer in sydney so the 5 hours ride felt like 10. But after sleeping through like 3/4 of the journey, we finally reached Jindy. 

At this point I cringe at how cute Jindy sounds because there is nothing cute about Jindabyne.

Better known as Snowy Mountain, during winter, Jindabyne turns into a skiing wonderland. In summer, it is where Mother Nature shows its true colours as a female- undecisive. Mother hot one moment, pissing rain the next. And im not even talking about a period of days here. In a matter of hours the weather here can change drastically.

This place is lovely. Jindabyne is beautiful. The lake is enormous and it goes on forever. Once, we rowed on and on for at least 13km without having to turn. The roads where we ride on go on forever too. (More on cycling in a bit.)

The day starts at 4:55am every morning, which doesn't seem that bad if you're a rower. And then you put on your trainers and run down the hill to the lake. And you might think it's a straightforward downhill route but in jindabyne nothing is ever a simple downhill or uphill. 

At the lake, we row and God bless us if the wind is a breeze. The water can get so nasty, once I went out on a single scull in horrible water and almost cried cuz it was so scary to row back in the rolling waves. After training, we run back up the hill back to our accommodation. On good days, the run back will take 20mins or so for a 2.5km distance. On days where your legs feel like there's fkg weights in them, it may take up to half an hour. But you have to just deal with it because no way will any coach pity your pretty face and give you a ride home.

And then we have our favourite meal of the day, breakfast. Usually we sleep after breakfast for about an hour to recharge for our second session which starts at around 11am. This time round we don't have to run to the lake so we'll get to drive down, thankfully.

Sometimes we run up a hill. Hills in jindabyne have no mercy on us human beings. They are so steep your eyes weep just by looking at them. Running up the hill is so painful you can try all sorts of things to get your mind off the pain but your fkg lungs and legs are on fire you can't ignore them. They just hurt so much and walking doesn't make anything better so you can't do much, really, but just to fkg run.

Sometimes we gym. Which sounds okay since I've been gymming for quite some time now but I've not done circuits for years and circuits just make your heart pump so hard you feel like it may just protrude out of your chest anytime. 

And then there's the training I dread the most. Cycling. I try to convince myself that if I learn to like it, it won't be that bad. But I just can't seem to enjoy riding. It's painful on your shoulders, your bum, your groin, your legs. It's just too much pain and discomfort. And like I mentioned before, Jindabyne hills are complex, like a women's brain. Uphills are painful, as expected, but what I hate the most is the downhill part. I AM SO FKG SCARED OF GOING DOWN A SLOPE, GOD SAVE ME. And cycling trainings go on for hours. The first ride we had was 45mins. The second was 70mins and the third ride was 3hrs. Yesterday, we rode for 3.5hrs, 67km and climbed the steepest hill I've ever encountered in my life. It was so steep my cadence was probably 10rpm and it is not an exaggeration. The 2 girls I was riding with didn't even make it to the top of the hill. One fell off the bike. It was excruciating I cannot imagine going through that again. Thinking about it still makes me cringe in fear. It was probably about 3 km but it felt like the longest road ever. I hated it. Hated it. SO MUCH HATE IN CYCLING!!!!

and then the coaches said that if I get over the fear of going downhill I actually make a good cyclist. Things you don't want to hear. Haha.

It's been 8 days now. 2 days to go. As much as this camp is slowly breaking my body, mentally fkg my mind,  I am sure by the end of this misery I will be stronger, fitter and faster than I've ever been before. That, I like. But for now, it's 3 more trainings to go.

My friends were like, I miss home. I miss sydney. And then I feel stupid for being sad because even when I get my ass back in sydney, home is still miles away.

They say you have to die first, before you feel reborn.

This is how death feels like, I reckon.

xx

Here, now.

So I've ended the year achieving 6 out of 10 of my goals. 
1. I ran a half marathon
2. I sat on a bike for 2hrs
3. I beat my PB on the erg for 30mins
4. I did bikram
5. I did 10 pistol squats on each leg at one go
6. I did more than a 6mins plank

The 4 goals that I didn't manage to achieve were:
7. 10 chin ups
8. Handstand
9. Swimming 250m non-stop
10. Running 10k in 40mins

The chin ups, handstand and the swim were excusable because of the wrist thing I had. But the 10k was just something I chickened out and didn't even try.

6 goals achieved would do for now.
#betterthannothing

--

I'm back in Sydney. Things are moving so quickly i haven't had the chance to even sit down and reflect on my 2014 and jotting goals down for my 2015.

Will be leaving for the mountains (5 hrs from sydney) tomorrow at 530am. Intense training for 10 days. Crazy bike rides. Freezing mornings to hellish afternoons. 3 trainings almost everyday. Sounds pretty wicked, but I'm ready. 

I feel a little empty inside. I miss home. It's a stupid thing to say but I am not going to lie to you, or myself. I do miss home. And its hardly been a week since I'm here. I'm not the adventurous little girl who gets excited to be alone in a foreign country anymore. I feel old, tired, lonely. And stupid.

Stupid feelings will go away soon. 

It better go away soon.

I need to be here. To be fast. To win. 

Meanwhile, have I told you about how I picked up cycling a month ago, bought my very own pedals and shies with cleats along with lights and saddles and a gps? Have I told you that I just learnt how to cleat on my shoes to the bike last week and 2 days ago I cycled up and down one of the most challenging routes in sydney? Have I told you how I hate cycling because it scares the coconuts out of me but I just have to shut up and deal with it like how I hated rowing when I first got into the single sculls cuz I thought I sucked at it? Well yeah. And I heard we're gonna cycle up the highest peak in Australia during the camp. How exciting.

Good luck legs. 

Will be back in 10 days. 
Fitter. Stronger. Faster.
(And with a reflection and a resolution ready by then)
You'll see.