Last week was busy as hell and hot as balls. Luckily I still got out for about 15 miles worth of hikes in the vaginally humid woods since my previous post, and today (Monday), the heatwave finally relented, and I got out for a Standard Dirt Road Ride in the morning before the breeze kicked up too much.
The bank fraud-induced fog of worry and fret that I’ve been walking around in for two weeks is finally starting to lift. Just in time, too, because I was really starting to lose it, AND I have a million things to do this week!
I’ll deal with this week when the shit comes, but as for the past week, there were more rage/sad hikes, followed by finally getting back out for a ride in the hot, humid morning air on Saturday morning.
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.
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.
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.
There has been no ride since my last ride. That’s a bummer, but I’ve tried to keep moving with six nine miles of Dreadmill lumbering over the past two three days. Me walking/jogging on a treadmill is not exactly blog-worthy1, but as I so often say here on these ill-written digital pages of digital suck, “yet here we are.”
WEDNESDAY 7:53 AM
I’ve been up since 6:30 AM, which is pretty normal since I usually go to bed by 9 PM these days. Oddly, it’s dark as night with threatening clouds leftover from last night’s thunderstorms, and I have a feeling it’s going to be like this for most of the day.
Given the rain overnight, I’ll be keeping my Roscoe and its new 29er wheels with low-profile Kenda rubber out of the mud and in the garage2. Instead, I’ve developed a plan to tackle 2 to 3 laps of the Bundy Hill Preserve, hopefully without being struck by lightning.
