Psychological War Crimes

Being forced indoors during the harsh winter months or squeezing a workout in on the trainer every so often due to time restraints or inclement weather is something we all live with from time to time… BUT for one reason or another, baring the 50 miles I rode at Saturday’s X100, I have been forced to workout indoors for 9 of the past 10 days… In AUGUST! I believe working out indoors during the summer when most people are out riding qualifies as a psychological war crime (although I am not sure what war I am fighting?… The War on Suck? Slack War I?)


Not all the workouts (I use the term “workout” very, VERY loosely) have been on the trainer, in fact only one of them has been (as documented above). There is just something about riding the trainer when it’s 85˚ and sunny that is the ultimate knitting needle to the crotch. Instead I have opted for doing non-cycling workouts to take my mind off the fact that I am riding a bike, going nowhere and not outside.

What I have been doing what some might say vaguely resembles jogging on the treadmill (in between doing max incline walking), some core workouts and soccer drills with B-Man at the park. I even let him talk me into “suicide sprints,  like we do at the end of practice.” Yes, yes, he beat me and yes, I could see the embarrassment of me in his eyes.

Adding to the non riding suckage, I have also been attempting to eat a little more “primal” and limiting my carbohydrates. No need for a couple/few hundred grams of carbs if I am not doing anything to really burn them other than some half-hearted workouts. It’s been a lot of eggs, lean beef, chicken breasts and vegetables.

BUT, there is a two-wheeled light at the end of the rideless, beerless tunnel of suck! After tomorrow, my schedule will be opening up for the weekend followed by B-Man’s return to school next week wich will get me back to a blessed routine. As much as I needed a day or two to recover from my shambolic display on Saturday I am very much looking forward to getting some miles in. Road, gravel, mountain, I don’t care… just one more day.

Cue that Wilson-Phillips’ song that makes me want to take a fucking hostage and roll the credits…


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