Puppy madness continues into its second week, and Lola (the dog) is a black and white tour de force. Biting everything she can get her teeth on, pestering Jake (the dog) every chance she gets and is being a real shit disturber. In other words, she’s a puppy.
I recognize the words I throw up from the rotting nether regions of my head and onto these digital pages are vital to everyone’s day. I totally get that and apologize for the ongoing gaps between posts.
Monday morning I took a chance and headed to the Not So Stankment to ride the Hammer and Zwift™ for 20 miles while letting Lola and Jake (the dog) sleep on the couch. Jake is a great dog, but the joke around the house is that he’s kind of a moody asshole. Yes, I see the irony of a moody asshole of a human having a moody asshole of a dog. Let’s move on…
After I hit publish on my last post, I was anxious to get outside to ride again. Sadly, after I looked at everything that needed to be done around the house—and elsewhere—before we went to pick up our new bulldog puppy late Friday afternoon, I reconsidered and slipped into a world void of riding and littered with chew toys and puppy prep.
With tired legs and a belly full of a shit breakfast (it was so tasteless and bad, I’m ashamed of myself), I headed out for a short ride on Thursday morning before attending to real life duties in the afternoon followed by a trip to the Mind Bender.
Most medications include some lawyerish words that say something about “take as prescribed.” I can see that, despite being back to riding outside, my cycling has taken on a bit of a “ride as wanted” air. There is nothing at all wrong with that, but I must learn to accept the pitfalls (weight gain, increased pant size, lack of fitness, etc.) that come with such a slack attitude. Thankfully I wanted to ride on Tuesday, because despite the crisp, not all that spring-like air, the 25 miles ride in the sun was just what I needed, and nature rewarded me.
Thursday I completed my fourth day of Zwift™-ing in row and felt really good in the process. I was happy about finally getting back in the routine of doing stuff and about riding for more than ten miles!
To say I am driving Wifey nuts with worry about me is an understatement. That is not my intention, but that has been the result.
Most of my days since the last post were spent doing more of the same stuff: snowshoeing, Zwift™-ing, making/eating food, drinking beer, watching football, self-loathing, and cursing my existence. The usual.
Other than sleeping, the motivation for “doing stuff”1 has been low. Like, old man testies sort of low. Still, I’ve managed to do what I can with the scraps of motivation I have left in me after a month-long illness, a seriously infected cut on my leg, a self-esteem that’s plunging further and further into the nether regions of my stank anus of a psyche, and a winter that shows no sign of releasing its murderous grip from Michigan’s throat.
