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.
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.
We’ll start this unneeded post back on Friday, ’cause that was the next time I did something since the last time.
As I sat and sipped my A.M. coffee on, I started to get the itch to ride. Knowing that I am full-on mother fucking out of shape and the heat outside was some real swamp-ass type stuff, I knew it wouldn’t be a long ride, but I wanted outside. The plan was to ride the paved mid-Michigan pathway (or whatever the fuck it’s called) from MP towards Shepherd, then jump off for some dirt roads and then back. All in all, it would be about a 20-mile lollipop of a loop with a dogleg left and a cul-de-sac.
But it never happened.
It seems as if the Dog Days of Summer have arrived before summer even has; it hasn’t rained in weeks, the temps hover around 90˚, I sweat like a preacher (AMEN!) and that strange summertime boredom that usually doesn’t hit me until August has set it. At least until my bikes are healthy and in-country (rear-wheel repair and new bike build), the weather cools a bit, and I feel like leaving the house for more than a sweat-soaked hour at a time.
Oh well, the nine months of Michigan winter will be back soon enough, so I will reserve my bitching for then.
Note: This post may or may not sound like I’m a six-pack of beer and a 5 gallon-sized bag of weed into the weekend, but I assure you it’s only fueled by coffee, too much time on my hands, and cold rain pelting against my office window.
I type this with one goal in mind: get to the end. Fast.
Like the potent, sour smell of the men’s room in the mall, I’m back.
It’s been a while since I felt the need to post here. To be honest, I still don’t feel the need to post here, yet here we are.
The following is a conversation I had with my editor yesterday. I sort of took her advice.
Me: Guess what, I did it!
Stacy B: Did what?
Me: I went back to the gym.
Stacy B: Oh.
Me: I’m going to write a blog post about it.
Stacy B: Hmmm… Literally, no one will care.
Me: Why not? It had been over a year of daily COVID beers, very little exercise, and the fewest miles ridden on my bike in over 25 years; don’t you think people will want to read about it?
Stacy B: No.
Me: Seriously?
Stacy B: Seriously, no.
Me: So you’re saying that even if I tell the world about the beginnings of Operation Pec-Lift II and how the gym was better than I thought in COVID times—especially being fully vaccinated—that no one will want to read about it?
Stacy B: I can’t imagine someone bored enough to read about some non-athlete dad going to the gym to lift a few weights. But what do I know? I just work here. Do you have any coupons or bottle slips?
Me: No.
Stacy B: That’ll be $124.98. Cash back?
Me: No thanks.
Stacy B: Good luck with your exercising and stuff. You might want to try cutting back on empty calories and maybe do some incline chest presses.
Me: Yeah… yeah. Thanks. Are you sure that no one…
Stacy B: NO!!!!
Me: OK!! OK!! Thanks.
Stacy B: Thanks for shopping at Meijer.
Later.
No, trust me, I haven’t died yet. Nor has anyone in my immediate circle of humans. What I mean by “death moment” is a moment so incredibly good that if I died during said moment or whilst enjoying the emotional afterglow of the moment, I would die happy. Or at least happy enough.
