Posts Tagged → being an idiot

Trying Out New Habits

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Old habits are hard to break; like limiting myself to riding during daytime hours since I left my (cash paying) job in March of 2009. I mentioned this a couple of weeks ago, but it’s funny how true it really is and what other habits–good and bad–have come to replace a post-work ride on a weekday evening.

Let me say, this blog post was NOT supposed to be this long, it was just supposed to be a few photos from last night’s ride, but then I got thinking, wandered more than a bit off track and found myself “on the couch.” The short story is that I had a great ride on Wednesday evening (as illustrated above), the long story below is to be filed under Too Much Information or Never Has So Much Thought Gone Into Deciding To Go For a Fucking Ride. I don’t encourage you to read on, but do so if you wish.

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A Weekend of Dirtz

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My plan for Saturday morning was this: get up, drink 2 to 14 cups of Bust Ass Coffee, eat some sort of lame breakfast, watch football (YES!!!) and then head out to ride some singletrack north of town. All of that was on course to happen until I checked the radar on Weather-dot-look-at-all-these-ads-and lame human interest videos-dot-com and saw that my trails appeared to be getting pissed down on with rain by the uncontrollable, loose bladder of Ma Nature.

Plan B was activated.

Plan B was to grab the El Mariachi and head out for a couple of hours or so of pavement and dirt roads. Obviously not my first choice (made fucking obvious by the fact that it’s Plan B, NOT Plan A. But dirt is dirt, miles are miles, calories burnt are calories burnt and a fat, crap cyclist is a fat, crap cyclist).

Upon fetching the El Mariachi (my current “go-to” gravel road bike that is really just a hardtail mountain bike) from the Not-So-Stankment®, I realized that in a raging fit of laziness [surprised?] I failed to rinse the bike off after Tuesday’s muddy dirt road ride. No big, I sort of like riding around with what amounts to an extra 2 to 5 pounds of dried cement on my frame. What’s a few extra pounds of dried cement on my bike when I’m already sporting at least 15 extra pounds of beer, pizza and general fuck-up-ness around my ever broadening and bouncing midriff??? Nothing!

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My Cycling Metamorphosis

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Lately I’ve been thinking about the magical metamorphosis that took place when cycling went from being a hobby for me to lose weight and stay in shape to something that–in many ways–defines me as a person today.

Some Background

As a kid, the extent of my bike riding was rolling around town on my black and yellow Mongoose BMX bike wishing I had the skills, speed and balls to race BMX with my friends Scott and John. The bike was cool, with sweet yellow mag wheels, checkered bar and stem pads and even though I never did race the bike, I rode around with a number plate on it. I was #4, paying tribute to then Pittsburgh Pirate shortstop turned coke-head Dale Berra. A tribute paid only after buying the #4 decal and being asked why the hell I was #4. If eleven year old kids called each other poseurs back in 1982, I would have surely been called one, and deservedly so.

After the BMX days, I sold my bike, stopped playing soccer, stopped playing baseball and turned all my attention to my new hobby; eating. Through my teens and very early twenties, I ate myself to a robust, ruddy cheeked, lonely and depressed 300 pounds. It wasn’t until I was on the brink of exceeding the maximum girth of my size 42 pants and lacked the funds to make the move up to 44s, that I finally did something about my weight (it seems it’s cheaper to lose weight than buy new clothes).

After years of saying I was going to “diet,” I finally just changed my lifestyle. I no longer attempted to starve myself, try diet pills or Slim-Fast shakes. For the first time in my life I started eating healthier foods, cut out between meal snacking (which were actually between meal meals) and started exercising, and IT WORKED!

Keep in mind, that at 300 pounds, my “exercising” consisted of long walks seeking out the biggest hills in town while listening to my Walkman, and that when you go from doing nothing to doing something, things will start to change; regardless, I was stoked to see the pounds start to come off. Then one day while sitting in my room listening to sad bastard music and flipping though a magazine I saw an ad for a mountain bike. It looked cool as hell and on top of that I remembered that this really hot girl I had gone to art school with had one. Cool looking bike… hot girl rides one…. OH, I’M GETTING ONE!

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Fat on Fat, Man on Bike Love

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With B-Man in Pittsburgh with his Poppy for the week and Wifey in Baltimore on .gov business, I am considering this week a vacation week. There will be many miles ridden and copious amounts of beer drank. There will be drunk Tweeting and Facebooking, strippers and casual sex with throngs of horned up CMU girls aching to get a piece of me. OK, that’s all pretty much a lie. I plan to get some miles in, hit up some new riding areas, drink a few beers and maybe hang out with some friends. The rest is just perverted daydreaming by a 43-year-old man with a wife of seventeen years and a 10-year-old son out-of-town for the week.

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Scales

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Yesterday (on the road for 41 miles), and today on the trail, was all about the scale. No, not the scale that tells me that I’ve gained 40 pounds since 2005 when I started this blog, fancied myself an endurance mountain bike racer who eventually realized he just likes to ride his bike on trails, gravel and roads, drink beer, eat good food and sometimes race, but the pain scale. I have to say, that even though I don’t like pain, I like this scale way more than that fucking, lying piece of shit in my bathroom… Forty pounds my ass!

This week has been made up of the following: riding, bitching, moaning, hate, expanding my liver, stretching, core work, ice therapy (to that area that makes up the gulf betweenst my two giant love handles) and adjustments to my riding position. Right now, things are going pretty darn, not bad. In fact, today I completed my normal 16 mile loop and on a pain scale of 1 to 10 I think it was merely a 4… maybe even a 3. Woot!

To go back a smidge, I got out yesterday on the road bike. I felt like shit… I felt great… I felt like shit… I felt great. Grrrr…

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While I didn’t feel great over the entire 41 miles of crap Michigan roads, I felt well enough that I didn’t want to sell all my bikes and take up drinking and masturbation as my “go-to” hobbies (they will remain in the 2 and 3 slots).

And I as I said above, today’s slow/quick lap felt pretty OK… ish.

Later…. I have a couple other hobbies to take care of.

A Long Time

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Today’s short ride was a long time coming. Yikes! I hadn’t been on the bike since last Saturday’s Rust Shaker XC race. A combination of windy, cold, rainy, vile weather, B-Man’s soccer, strength training in the gym and general malaise (e.g.. laying in bed praying for the end of my days) from dealing with my continued unemployment and lack of societal contribution got in the way. Hey, this is what separates the Pros, neo-Pros, fast peeps and slow, depressive fat fucktards like me.

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Soiled Chamois Rice & Beans

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It’s sort of funny [not really] that nearly all of my favorite meals look like something that was scraped off the piss smelling coat of a bum passed out in an alley after three bottles of Wild Irish Rose and a “found” half eaten gas station burrito. Funny or not [mostly not], any combination of brown rice, meat, beans, peppers, onions and a bit of cheese usually results in me being fully satisfied in the gut (and more than a tad gassy).

Tonight’s rice & beans was based on what Bon Appétit magazine calls the “hottest trend to come out of American kitchens since the kale-splosion of 2012.”  Tex-Mex-Cajun-Italian Fusion.

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The Struggle

I got me a case of writer’s block. It’s not entirely my fault, it just that there is NOTHING going on except zero degree temps and snow. OK, there are things going one but I’m talking about things that are worth talking about. The following is a list of things that I thought about blathering on about but realized there was no real point…

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