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.
Wednesday, I needed to shoot over to the local lab to get some bloodwork done, and then it was home to the savory arms of a 225 calorie Soiled Egg Sammich1 before getting into some kit, looking at myself in the mirror, thinking about taking the kit off and downing a bottle of gin, aborting that boozy plan for some reason, and then going for a short 20-mile dirt road ride that hurt like it was 120.
Sunday brought a reprieve from five days of heavy rain and thunderstorms. I had no real plans for the day, but in the late morning, I decided to do a quick walk around the Sylvan Preserve with my macro lens. Wifey tagged along to get some real exercise while I took photos, and then we met up for a bit somewhere in the middle of the trails to finish out the walk.
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.
My last post caused a disturbance in the Family Force, so I will stick to photos this time ’round.
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.
