Unlike the ladies in the above vintage roller race photo, some days it takes everything I have mentally to complete a session on the trainer, and today was one of those days.
I suppose I could take solace in the fact that I DID complete an hour spin, but that’s about where it ends. I thought I had a plan, then my legs, still heavy from yesterday’s trip to the gym, informed me that they weren’t so in to that plan.
I wanted to climb off the bike, lay on the basement floor and stare for hours at the lone burning light bulb above whilst contemplating just what the hell my life has become and why the hell I was stuffed into a man-blubber-tastic lycra outfit, on a bike, in my basement, pedaling and going nowhere…
Instead, I came up with another plan… that plan went OK, but the music I had on was shit. Then, after about fifteen minutes I made the switch to Filthy Boy’s Smile That Won’t Go Down (my 2013 album of the year that, from what I saw, failed to crack any year-end lists) and settled in for another forty-five minutes.
The workout was by no means a personal best, but I burned some calories, sweat out some sausage juice, and did SOMETHING… which was probably only slightly better than doing nothing, and some days that is everything.