It’s been about 10 days since our bank account was pillaged by nefarious fucktards, and other than the process of working with the bank to get our money back, I can think about little else right now.
Oh, Saturday, how I remember you. I did a 22.5-mile dirt road ride from the house and sweat my balls off. I also hit one of my first weight-loss goals (-20 lbs). It was a good day. That lasted until about 11 AM.
After adulting most of the day on Tuesday, I was anxious to re-enter the world of underemployed slack on Wednesday with a Standard Gravel™ Ride from the Cul-De-Sac-Shack.
The ride was a short 22.5-mile loop and was pretty “meh.” It wasn’t bad in any way; it was just as the name implies, “standard.” And these days, as I look to regain some shred of fitness, I’ll take feeling good after a quick dirt road ride all day long.
July ended with increasing miles on the bike and decreasing numbers on the scale. Still, my plan for Sunday was to take the day off from workouts or rides and just goof off.
That was the plan, then about an hour after I wrote a blog post and started said plan for goofing off, I headed to the Not So Stankment to get on the Dreadmill. In other words, the plan failed.
I got out Thursday morning for a ride, but it soon became apparent that I didn’t have it in me. I was riding right into a steady wind that combined with overnight rain and morning sun to make things an un-fun, sticky mess. I did 15 miles, and that would have to scratch my workout itch for the day.
I felt pretty good about my fitness after Saturday’s ride, so I was eager to get back out on Sunday.
I waffled back and forth about whether I wanted to ride from the Cul-De-Sac Shack or ride from a Soiled Chamois Approved Dirt Road Ride Launching Pad south of town. In the end, I decided to try and save time and beat the heat and shadeless sun by leaving from the house. I also hoped to add another mile or two to my Better Than The Trainer Ride™ along the way and help it lose said moniker.
Shortly after hitting the publish button on my last post and digesting my daily Soiled Egg (White) Sammich, I gathered my bottles and gear, found my fender, stuffed myself into some too-small bibs and the only jersey I have that fits, and headed out for a SLIGHTLY Better Than The Trainer Ride™ before any rain moved back into the area.
This all seems very familiar to me. And by “this,” I mean writing a post about something I did 2 days ago and now having little desire to write about. And not just because it wasn’t that interesting!
Yet, I still write. Sorry.
My Monday was filled with all the business that Monday brings, so I was confined to the Dreadmill™ for 3 miles of lumbering and sweating my ass off to the latest techno “hits” featuring “a good beat that you can dance to,” all the while trying not to fall off the damn thing to become another sad A.A.R.P. treadmill statistic.
*Let us now bow our heads and remember all of our geriatric brothers and sisters who have fallen whilst booty-shaking on treadmills.*
For better or worse, I was on a bit of a roll with posting. Then I didn’t for a few days; now I don’t know where to begin. Shit.
From what I can remember, I’ve been balls deep into watching my food intake and working out every single blessed goddamn day like I’m an Olympian as I try to lose the weight that so cleverly attached itself to me via years of being on the antidepressant hamster wheel.