This week has been an exercise in futility. The exercise of course being riding over 100 miles the past few days, and the futility being that despite those miles my weight hasn’t budged in a week. Not even a tenth of a mother f*cking goddamn pound one way or another. I blame the scale, I really do. F*ck that piece of shit.
[insert mental image of me frantically panting with a vein popping out of my enraged forehead like Ren Hoek here]
To add insult to injury, 3 of the 4 rides completed thus far this week sucked ass for one reason or another:
Monday: 30 mile road ride, pretty legit.
Tuesday: Rode on dirt roads that just got a heaping layer of soft, fresh power sucking dirt. Meh.
Thursday: Froze my ass off in 30˚ temps and steady ice cream headache winds during a shitty short road ride.
Friday: Lucked out with the rain and some warmer temps, but not with the gusting wind. Worked my ass off for nothing.
I expected nothing from Thursday’s Better Than The Trainer Ride™ other than burning some calories. I knew it would be cold, I knew it would be short, and it was indeed both, but it was better than the trainer… sort of. However a bit later when I weighed in and saw that my weight said ###.2, just like last Thursday I was pissed the hell off.
I met my friend Mike later that night for a couple of pints at the Tap Room. I figured with the rain in the forecast I probably wouldn’t be getting out, and I had plateaued anyway, I might as well have a couple of beers.
The rain did come overnight, but thankfully it moved out by sunrise and the temps were pretty nice. The wind was only supposed to be like 7 to 10 MPH, but I guess I should have looked a little further down the page to see where it said 7 to 10 with gusts over 20 MPH. Fffffffffffffffff*ck mmmeeeeeee.
I was working my ass off to go 12 MPH at times, steering right to go straight, and screaming cuss words as sweat fell from my cap and blew back onto my glasses. The only things that kept me going was knowing that with all this work and sweat, surely my weight would change, at some point I would have a 20 MPH tail wind blowing me home, and that I was 15 miles from home, I really had no choice but to keep riding.
30.5 miles later I pulled into the driveway, stoked to be home and ready to get some lunch and do some work. But first I wanted to do a weigh in, just to check. I stepped on the scale and boom: ###.2, the SAME weight as LAST Thursday, AND yesterday. F*CK EVERYTHING!
OK, I’m calm now. A veggie chic’ patty and some water made everything OK, as did knowing we were going out with some friends later, and I would be enjoying some beers. ###.2 be damned, be damned right to hell.
Now I’m going to order a new scale.