Posts Tagged → being a slacker

Debatably Better

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It’s been a week since the girth of my flabby ass cheeks rubbed up against a bike saddle. During that time I ate and drank a LOT. Ham, beef, potatoes, pizza, whole blocks of cheese, sweets, cookies, beer, and gin fueled cocktails all found their way into the muffin-like stomach that spills over my too tight jeans. I also spent nearly fourteen hours in the car driving to and from Pennsylvania for the Christmas holiday. I slept like shit, ate like shit, and I’ve felt like a fleshy turd mentally and physically over the past week.

Now back into the frigid bosom of Michigan, I was given the choice to either run on the treadmill in the Stankment® or head out into the crisp air and wind for a Better Than The Trainer Ride™ in an attempt to make a dent in all that flab. With Monday calling for freezing rain and sleet, I chose to ride and save the indoor miserableness for Monday.

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In My Ears: Rozwell Kid

It’s been a while since I spewed forth notes from my musical manifesto, but I figured the holiday down time is a good time to waste time with nonsense about my band of the week/what I’m listening to at the moment.

These days–nine times out of ten–I am late to the party compared to modern-day hipsters. However as a forty-four year old living in a small town in the middle of rural Michigan who often leaves the house only to ride his bike, I’m just happy to get to the party at all, even if the trip to said party means wading through a sea of snarky “no one listens to them anymore” comments from people young enough to be my kid and wearing a slouchy ski cap in 75˚ temperatures.

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Void of Light

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This December has been pretty sweet as far as weather. We here in Michigan aren’t exactly getting the warm sixty-ish degree temperatures that some of the east coast states are getting, but for these parts in December, forty degrees and no snow is just as good, and in many ways my rides have felt more like those done in late fall and early spring rather than winter. Having said that, I feel the need to add: THE SUN COULD SHINE ANY F*CKING DAY NOW!!!

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Broccoli & Barbells

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Part I, The Broccoli

Wednesday was a planned day off the bike to get some things done during the day (the least of which included washing two months worth of mud off the Boone) before heading into the Stankment™ to do some treadmill sprint intervals and strength training in the evening.

It was also my day to not eat leftovers and make myself something tasty for lunch. That something was one of my fave standbys: whole wheat pasta tossed with fresh, store-bought, not at all locally grown, non-organic broccoli, garlic and extra virgin olive oil.

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Blowing & Sucking

Wet and windy outside my box on wheels.

Wednesday night after I helped Wifey out with her strength training, I hung around in the Stankment™ to search through piles of bike crap for a saddle to put on my road bike, a bike which these days stays affixed to my trainer all year round and has been missing a saddle for the past eight months. Knowing that crap weather was fast approaching I searched, cussed, found and installed the saddle in preparation for another day hunkered down avoiding high winds and rain.

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The Road More Paved

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For me, a slack forty-four year old who is currently training for nothing other than to not drunkenly kill over whilst on the crapper, riding three days in a row is not only strange, but sort of an effort at times. Yeah, I know, I’m not exactly setting the world afire with my speeds and distances, I’m not doing intervals, hill repeats or anything that stupid resembles a hardcore training regime, but I’m still riding at a “comfortably hard” pace (in between photos), a pace and structure that is often referred to as “junk miles” by racers and coaches that give a shit [foreshadowing, ask me later]. And sometimes my crap body feels it.

What-evs, with today being Veteran’s Day [thank you Vets], Wifey was off from work, but B-Man was at school. Part of me wanted to stay at home, draw a hot bubble bath full of love, and nakedly lounge around being all lovey dovey with my bosomy, ginger haired gal-pal. BUT, the other part of me wanted to get out for a ride of a different sort on the Boone.

Why can’t we do both? [TMI? I thought so, sorry].

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A Blown Saturday Roll

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I am pretty lucky in that, if nothing else, my current [real] joblessness affords me the ability to get out to ride on weekdays in between dad/husband duties and occasional freelance projects. While lucky, those rides can often be rushed or limited in length due to said responsibilities.  Soccer-free Saturday’s usually are a bit more relaxed and allow for longer rides. THIS Saturday was not one of those days.

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