Staring at the lock I do my best to quell my autistic rage. This was bad on a day already filled with bad omens. I have serious concerns about about the upcoming week, maybe I should just cower in my room until this storm passes, go to ground. Get drunk, stay drunk and rant into this blog about the unfairness of it all until some indication that things were looking up happened, like winning the lottery maybe. I already had to turn back halfway to the gym when I realized my badge was next to 'the big chair' in the family room. At the time of the morning when I tend to work out it's insane to rely on the kindness of strangers, you're just asking for a beating.
I continue staring at the bright, shiny, new brass lock that was on my locker. And let's face facts, for one year it is my locker. I paid for it and it has a nice big Operation Feed sign on it proclaiming that it has been paid for. I decide it's too much bother to go home, get the reciprocating saw and cut the stupid lock off but I'm thrown completely off my game and I haven't even started. Someone's smelly socks were in my locker, defiling it. I'll have to sanitize it with copious amounts of Lysol once I gain access.
Whatev.
I set up in the locker next to it.
Today is the first day of Bubbles new routine for me and I'm already apprehensive about it, some serious cardio today followed by a new horrid ABS routine.
I set up on the upright bike, idly pedaling along warming up trying to figure out how to approach this problem:
1 min work followed by 2 min rest X 10
I'm paraphrasing because I left the workout sheet in the trunk of my car - sigh (I once again consider a serious binge).
Work as defined by Bubbles is getting my HR up to the 70% (over 142bpm) range for a minute followed by two minutes of rest at 55-60% (112-122bpm) before doing it again for ten times. I had researched the numbers the night before and could only remember the work interval number but so what?
I had set the bike for level five or so and forty minutes and was just sort of waiting for, heck, I don't know, something to happen. Some signal. Eventually I just push the lap button on the Garmin out of boredom and hammer the pedals jacking the cadence up into the 120 range while bringing the level up to 14. I do that for a minute and then bring the cadence down into the seventy range while dialing back the level to four and try and recover.
By the seventh one I'm sucking serious wind and trying to count how many work intervals I've done and generally figuring it out. I need some sort of chalkboard or counter - something. Mentally it went like this, "OK I'm on minute twenty, first interval was at zero to minute one followed by two minutes of rest so minute three-four was the next work interval (TWO), followed by ... DAMMIT! (restarts the count)" and I only had two minutes to figure out what interval I was on before starting the next work interval.
By the tenth one I felt pukey. I sit for a few additional minutes on the bike in cool down and then get off it and walk around for a bit trying to settle down. The chart looks like this:
I finally man up for ABS and start to work on those. The BOSU work was awful, I can't remember how to do it and the BOSU bicycles were not done in the correct form.
UGH!
When I talked to Bubbles about the stupid Russian Twists later she asked, "Did you remember the six pound medicine ball? It'll help with your balance."
No Bill didn't remember about the six pound medicine ball. DRAT
The ABS course kicked my rear. Tomorrow I do the Tuesday routine so I'll have to brush up on that tonight.
What I'm loving (soon to be hating) about this routine Bubbles has laid out for me is that every day is different. Yeah MWF is cardio but they're different cardios and so kinda sucky in the sense that I'll be dreading them a bit more than I once was. And Tuesday is completely different from Thursday so I don't know yet how to whine about them.
The scales inform me that I lost two pounds so I'm now sitting at 200.
I coast down the driveway and nearly wreck when a doe and two fawn stroll across the street in front of me. We glare balefully at each other annoyed at this interruption in our respective "me" times. This neighborhood is going hell in a hand-basket with this sort of riff-raff wandering the streets in the early morning hours, like sullen teenagers busted after curfew. I'm wondering when I'll see a wolf-pack come tearing down the street in some real life "You are THERE" Discovery Channel thing, ripping into the tiny mob with carnivorous delight.
I don't know who the deer's representatives are in our little community but I'd like to hire them. I'm skating the edge of serious jail time, a nickle at least, simply by hurting their feelings much less writing this heretical creed. There's nothing we can do about them except hope they'll go away, which they wont, why would they? My wife's garden is just too good. What I once thought was something of a majestic animal has now become a giant squirrel through over population. It wont be long till I'm shoving the things out of the way just to get the morning paper.
I head out on the bike with the intention of doing fifty miles. I have absolutely no plan except going past the point where I got lost, continue until the odometer hits 25 miles and then head back. goFast has routes but he's been at this longer than I. I'm gonna head out and see what I can see. I'm carrying two Clif bars and my camera in my trunk. I've got a cell if I can't get home and two water bottles. It had rained esrlier and I watched water drops dance in front of my little headlight. Its six in the morning and I'm off to a later start then I had originally planned having dawdled drinking coffee and listening to music.
It's still dark making me feel sad about oncoming fall followed by dreaded winter. I don't know how far into fall I'll be able to go with bike rides. I ride out feeling pretty good waiting for my legs to warm up, this is the first serious ride I've done in, oh I don't know, two or three weeks? I'm all about the distance here, grinding it out, not the time so I plan to take pics of things that catch my eye and might give you an idea of what you can see on a long ride to nowhere. I wish I was a better writer so I could give you an idea of what if feels like beside the boring pain.
I plan on stopping for breakfast at the ol' rock quarry which looked pretty cool in the morning. I sat on my rock and listened to the machines while munching on a Clif bar and drinking water.
The Ol' Rock Quarry
Bill's Eating Rock
I hop back on the bike and was riding out toward the little town I accidentally went through last time, recalling a quaint little graveyard.
I know I'm stopping a lot heading out but I also know that WONT be an option heading back, I'll be tired if not exhausted and my wife is very tolerant of this 'interest' of mine but I can't get too into it and still be a functioning member of the household if I decide to be a little selfish about it. My son just flat out thinks I'm insane.
The Town
A Town Landmark
My legs are starting to burn pretty good but I'm OK. I'm in uncharted territory and I'm thinking I might want to start planning as I move more into this distance venue. I'm in a place called nowhere and it's quiet and suddenly I notice it's quite beautiful.
I'm feeling pretty good, in this weird mental state when I notice this water feature as I pass some house. I thought the water wheel sounded really cool. I didn't notice the actual house until I'm on my way back. The house looks like something kitschy you'd buy at Hallmark, I made a note to definitely take a pic of that place - next time. It's almost a study in madness like the result of living out in the middle of a field for a bit too long with nothing better to do than go with a Hallmark theme on the house. Nothing on the owners but - oh my goodness.
I continue on when I notice I'm going downhill, fast. I hate it for the simple reason that I know I'm going to have to go back up this hill shortly and my legs no likee. I rewrite Paint it Black, "I see a downhill and I want it to be flat..." I'm beginning to feel the onset of the delusions and I had better heed them. The bottom of the hill puts me in some small burg and I'm going over a bridge with a nice river flowing beneath me, probably a little flusher than normal due to the recent rains.
On the other side of the bridge the road forks. DARN IT. I can turn left but that's away from the road I ultimately have to get back to to get home. I don't wanna so I opt for turning right, go up this sharp little hill, hang a hard right at the top of it passing 45MPH sign and gaze at this itsy bitsy country road that reminds me a lot of the road leading to my son's band camp. There is a bed of sunflowers at the top, all mourning my passing should I opt to go that route.
I turn around and peep out the other route going up some other steep hill, just missing my future route should I opt to follow goFast's distance training program and crossing the legendary route 37 which I know I'll do. I want to drink the water at Magnetic Springs and see if I stick to my bike which is steel.
The clock and my body are telling me it's time to head home. I hump back up that hill leading out of the burg destroying my thighs and finally pass my first group of bikers looking all fresh and perky. I loathe them but wave while some girl gives me a snappy "good morning." I'm starting to hurt a bit but I need more miles if I'm going to make fifty.
I hang a right on the road I originally missed that time I got lost and got a little taste of what goFast euphemistically calls the rollers. The rollers are just this string of hills that stretch out before you. If you're fresh they're no big deal but Bill is far from fresh. His butt and back hurt and are starting to hurt more. The rollers take a fair amount out of me.
I hit another junction of sorts and decide to turn right. While I'm thinking about it I hop off the bike and check in with my wife figuring she's awake. I eat half of my remaining Clif bar while informing her of where I'm at. I tell her I'm doing fine but I can tell I'm getting tired. I'm an endorphin enhanced babbling fool. I'm stretching and yakking and reluctantly get back on the bike. I can barely crank the pedals and nearly fall over.
Sheesh! I'm more tired than I thought. I'm rapidly forming the opinion that stopping the bike is not the way to go.
After two hours of a rather rough wooing my butt and bike saddle decide to get married. My butt isn't so sure ("Stop! You're hurting me!") but the damn saddle is relentless telling my bottom, "I love you long time baby!"
The acrimonious divorce came ten minutes later after my rear realized that the saddle was nothing but a liar. My whole body is in pain now, particularly my lower back, legs and of course butt. I might have started being 'one with the bike' but now my entire body is rejecting it like some transplanted kidney.
I don't bonk but I have to get off the bike! I have about four miles or so to go to get back home. I stop and stumble about stretching out my very pissed off back and thighs.
Where Bill Stopped.
Back on the bike and I've decided that first of all I'm going to stop wearing underwear for the rest of my life, or at least when I'm on these distance rides. I haven't made up my mind. I'm wearing disguised bike shorts and they have this chemise padding or something that is suppose to add additional padding between you and the seat but you're not suppose to wear undies. I now understand. The cotton undies feel like sandpaper and if I wasn't in the middle of some suburb I'd rip the damn things off right now but it's too late in the morning and I don't want to wreck some soccer mom's life as she drives out on some errand with her kids forever scarred by the knowledge there are half naked middle aged men riding their bikes nearby. Gosh I want those things off me! Maybe my butt and saddle would get along better...
I ponder these mysteries as I approach home entirely shot now armed with the knowledge that I COULD have done fifty if I had planned better countered by my range which currently appears to be about thirty-five.
At least I had a better ride than goFast.
One of those days... headed out with intoIt and anotherNutJob for a 60-80... 30 miles in I blow a spoke on my relatively new Neuvation rear wheel. Decide to go on with my brake dragging the whole way. Then at 45 my newish front tire sidewall blows... not the tube but the tire! I am done. Woke up my son to drive out and get me for the second time this year.
I get back home and stumble around the front of the house like a drunk, unzipping my windbreaker and sweating like no tomorrow. I stretch a little, head in and give my wife a brief update on the ride while boiling some water for tea. Tea is a new thing with me, I like it in addition to coffee. My body is changing, I'm changing. Maybe for the better if I can get over my inhibitions and ride without undies.
I'm glad to be alive and wish to express this to my wife who refuses to let me grope her pronouncing that I'm "sweaty and gross." After the shower I'm no longer sweaty but still gross I guess my wife says no to my amorous advances. Why not? The kid's minds are currently deep in the gravity well of that black hole called SpongeBob SquarePants. So what if she's cleaning or doing something productive...
Oh well, best go spend time with my harsh mistress; as I wipe down my Trek 520 for the first time in my life I idly wonder if a horse might be less demanding. The Aleve I gulped down is taking hold and I'm feeling entire muscle groups start to unwind as I wipe the grime off the bike. I use to think these wipe downs were something silly but now I realize that I'm actually inspecting the bike as I doll it up some. This is important. Now I know the bike has had a good going over so I'm less likely to have a mechanical issue the next time I'm out on some long ride.
And for all my complaining, all the pain, there will be another long ride where I drink magnetic water and cross the fifty mile mark. Whatever it is about this 'thing' I love it too much to let go now. I love this biking crap. I love my life.
I check my stats from the Garmin.
65,635 calories burned! WOW! That seems to be a lot! I did suffer for them though, still best get a sanity check from Bubbles algorithm.
"Yo, IronMan, come over here for a second and check this thing out."
I'm holding Bubbles latest Affront to God in my trembling hands, confident IronMan has my back, he'll get this sorted out for me. Bubbles is standing slightly off to my right with this bored, "Who's the trainer here?" look on her face.
"Is this even allowed under the Geneva Convention?" I ask as IronMan snatches the sheet of paper from my quivering hand. He scans it impassively, but with the same innate depth of clarity that allowed him to immediately spot a six inch by six inch section of the basketball court that they missed when re-varnishing it.
He hands it back to me while looking at Bubbles and saying, "It's not enough, he needs more!"
Bubbles rolls her eyes, glad this whining formality is over with and leads me off to the bikes while I'm despondently shuffling behind her thinking, "Bastard! If I was at gitmo and this was leaked I'd be the New York Times 'front page' boy for at least a week while enraged Senators fired up The Big Investigation!"
I'll spit out what Bubbles (who, in all fairness, might be going through some hormone imbalance due to her pregnancy so I just naturally irritate her because I happen to be in the room and she decided to express it with this new routine - bad timing on my part - look I'm just sayin') has done to me but let me make this abundantly clear. She put some real thought into this one, and my muscles will be very confused - long time.
I'm gonna start on Monday with this. At the 20,000 foot level it looks like this for the first month.
I'll go into more detail as my understanding grows but I ask you, no I beg you to write Bubbles telling her of the kind Bill, the pudgy unable to resist cake or ice cream Bill that if you look into your heart you know you love. You love me. Admit it.
sigh
Maybe I should rethink that plea for help from you heartless fiends.
Meanwhile I've scanned the list of things to do to appease Bubbles on my way to a new me and I've already forgotten about half of them. I should be able to enjoy this routine for a good long while! YAY! OH YAAAAAYYYYYYYY!
On the diet front things are not looking too good. I am so sick of carrots! I'm beginning to feel like a mutant Mister Ed I've been cramming so many of them in my mouth.
And you know what?
They don't help! Nope! Not one little bit. Sure I feel less physically hungry but the craving, the want, the neeeeeeed for that Super Fruits ice cream in the freezer burns ever brighter. Until... until I'm cramming as much of it as I can into a cake cone (Bill despises cleaning dishes) while convincing myself that it's "two scoops."
mmhmm
Two scoops, no doubt about it. Maybe one and a half but nowhere near three.
This is generally followed by another fistful of carrots in some misguided attempt at atoning which is just gross sitting on top of that ice cream.
Yep yep The Bill Diet definitely needs some fine tuning.
I'm stumbling around the gym knowing I'm on borrowed time. Bubbles has me sighted in and I'm emanating this 'dead man walking' aura that others are picking up on. Yesterday we went through the first half of her unveiling of The New Horror. Tomorrow is the rest along with the cardio.
If I was a composer yesterday's routine would be titled Wrecking Bill in BOSU B-Flat. I don't know what Bubbles calls it. It has a lot of BOSU work in it when I'm not practicing punching someone's lights out on the hockey rink (that's the motion, probably preparing me for when my daughter starts dating).
So I'm mulling over these thoughts of doom accompanied by The Sounds of Suffering coming from awesomeGirl who's killing herself on a recumbent bike when I nearly walk into...
JROCK!!!
She stands in front of me like the Greek Goddess Athena, all honed and lean and intimidating, glowering at me from under her headband like I'm the one who woke her up and dragged her into the gym at this unholy hour.
I bite back my scream of terror and immediately make a mistake, "So, um, where's IronMan?" Oh my god! What have I done??!! The boy is probably at Bob Evans consuming his second course of his traditional seven course morning meal...
"He's in the locker room getting pretty."
Phew! Well he does have his hair to attend to, that could take some time.
We shoot the breeze for awhile when suddenly she's in motion gliding towards the locker room, storm clouds forming, "Where is he?"
I cut her off before she charges in demanding satisfaction, "Let me handle this."
She holds back, a look of bemusement on her face.
I grab the door handle, open it and scream into the crack (mustn't reveal any secrets here), "IRONMAN YOU BETTER GET YOUR CANDY ASS OUT HERE RIGHT NOW! YOUR WIFE IS WAITING!"
JRock is giggling and within ten seconds IronMan is out the door strapping weight lifting gloves on. They head out of the gym together for a morning warmup run.
A couple of comments here. First of all this might read a little harsh on JRock but it's not. JRock is funny and charming and all of that but when she's in the gym she's the very definition of focus. So's IronMan but a little different. I watched them work out whilst I was in repose on some weight machine pretending to lift weights. JRock is all focused and stuff but not stand-offish, but she is working out so you tend to let her to it. IronMan will come over and give you static between sets, JRock is just a little ball of concentrated motion moving straight from one routine to the next.
During my field study of Athletes in Motion what's left of goodMood wafted in and he was destroying himself on the StairClimber and I almost felt guilty with my lack of misery. I've got awesomeGirl dying on the bike, goodMood climbing a stairway to nowhere and JRock and IronMan in The Couples Form Competition while I redefined torpidity. I sipped from my water bottle deciding what to do next.
I figure Bubbles is on her way in and I better be looking like I'm working here so I bypass my planned stroll on the treadmill and join goodMood on the stair climber. THAT was fun ::rolls eyes::
Bubbles comes in all bubbly and I'm outie. On my way out I drop by her desk and she has FOUR spreadsheets across her desk, all of them have my name on them. She's giggling and making adjustments, fine tuning Bill's Orchestra of Pain. I learn the second half tomorrow. ::shudders::
One final thing, I need to be absolutely clear about. I'll use the following text from TomS as an example - we were talking about his bike ride:
TomS: I was going to say "wait until you see my glistening thighs" until I thought the comment might make the blog. So I never said that... but wait until you see them.
I wish you people would quit worrying about me spilling something silly you said into the blog! You'd think I'd do just about anything to drive my readership up to say TWO and I wont. I'm not that kind of guy so settle down OK?!
Later that evening I received this pic from TomS of his 'glistening thighs'
Sunday morning I noticed the above. Well I definitely mismanaged this, darn it. I could lay a million excuses at your feet but in the end it doesn't matter. I missed it, end of story.
That weighed on me throughout Sunday, an annoyance in the back of my head. So thanks to my wife we took care of it. I rode to a local park and did loops until...
I'm really grateful to my family for helping me make this goal. My wife and son showed up a bit later and my wife is a hoot on the bike groaning at every upward incline. We hung out at a picnic table eating raspberries and mini-cupcakes before riding back together. So I put 24 miles on the bike during my "day off."
We also attended a local hot air balloon show. All in all a great weekend.
This morning I got up and did the total body thing. I managed to break my glasses yesterday so I can't ride the bike in or they'll fall off. I'm very bitter about that bad luck but hopefully can get them repaired today. The place doesn't open until 10am.
Feeling pretty full of myself and all my weekend work I stepped on the scales.
202
I gained a pound :-(
Yes, I ate sweets this weekend and blah, blah, blah but I honestly feel like I'm burning some serious calories too. What gives?
Bubbles is going to mess with my routine starting tomorrow giving me more cardio than I probably want. Hopefully by the start of next week I'll be back on track. My next target weight is 190 pounds but I'm beginning to feel like it's unattainable, this trade off between lifestyle (Bill does enjoy his treats) and gym work.
So here I sit staring myopically into my monitor wondering what happens next.
goFast and I are scheming. I'm jonesing for a ride like David Crosby wants just one more Ho-Ho. The requirements are that it can't be too long but should be a pretty good work out. I have to go out and about with the family later in the day and The Zombie Bill is not invited.
We finally decide on a nearby hill and an interval style workout. When I get home from work I'm so jazzed about it that I inflate the tires to 110 and hook the Garmin on the bike. Then I stay up late by the firepit telling a six-and-a-half year old girl (she was quite specific on this point, "I'm six and a HALF!") all about the interesting ways the Indians would kill the settlers. Sheesh, actually I was telling her parents while she lazed on her father's lap trying to figure out ways of getting another s'more after mom and dad said no. So after two glasses of my beloved single malt scotch and a really nice visit from goFast, goFaster (his wife :-)) and their youngest I hit the sack.
Naturally I slept a bit longer than I thought I would but managed to get to 'the hill' before there was too much traffic. The hill in its entirety is about 1.1 miles long and my first lap I did it all to warm up but then decided to do three tenths of it at the bottom of the hill. It had the steepest grade... anyway I then did that four additional times, the last one continuing up and back to my starting point.
Those three tenths of a mile were enough for me. Quite hellish. It took about a minute to descend it (I'm no great descender so I needed to make sure I could stop at the bottom of the thing or risk flying out onto a pretty busy road) and about two minutes to ascend it. It's much different than an interval workout in the gym.
You'd think I'd love the descents. HATED THEM after the second lap. Here's the thing, you've worked pretty hard lugging your (ok my) fat ass up that hill and in half the time you're gonna have to do it again. That's probably one of the reasons I over braked on the way down, though not consciously.
The ascent turns into this game with the gears, too high a gear and you go slower and suffer longer, too low and you can feel your thighs swearing vengeance if you can turn the crank at all. By the second time I got to the turn around I was a heaving, gasping wreck, my thighs quite irritated with me. I'd make my turn and try to bring my breathing under control before starting again. I was in the granny gear by the end of it.
Good times, good times.
So five ascents total, I know I can do better, so yeah I'll be doing that in the future. I followed goFast's advice and peddled home at a high cadence, slow speed and my thighs felt better for it along with the stretching afterwords.
I got home and my wife had just gotten up, I felt great and we had a cup of coffee before she decided we should bike to the library.
goFast informs me, "As a former thick necked lifter, the bench bar is 'supposed to be' 45 lbs WITH collars. I believe you will have to weigh them again and figure out which collars go with which bars. You will then need to mark them appropriately. After that, monitor activity so that no one cheats by using the light collars and the light bar... that would just be wrong."
Hmmmm I confess to not delving further into the light bar crises this morning. In fact, other than awesomeGirl, ponyTail (who cheated and carbo-loaded on beer last night), and AT Everest there seemed to be an aura of lassitude and indifference wafting through the gym this morning spearheaded by lazybones Kingsley.
Kingsley set the tone by coming in after me and announcing that today was going to be, "Light and quick." My hands were tied at that point. We become herd animals in the gym and though I'd hesitate to call Kingsley the alpha he does have more years in than I do, so if he's gonna lounge about I better follow suit. Today was my total body anyway and is not cardio just toning or something, anyway Bubbles told me to do it and I'm certainly not gonna cross her! (I shudder at how adept she is at getting me to push myself further, and if she's irritated... look she's sly 'k?)
So yeah, Bill the candy ass doesn't buck the Bubbles' bandwagon. I get the added benefit of a stronger core, weight loss (the belt has gone in another notch as of yesterday), feeling better, and more confidence which I oddly find inspiring.
Then IronMan comes in and stalls at the front desk reading yesterday's newspaper! He moved like molasses through the gym saying we're lucky to even see him in there he's been sleeping so well. I figure if you're sleeping well, at my advanced dotage, you might not want to pass on that.
I think goodMood showed up but the dude is getting so skinny he's kinda hard to see. He was quiet, probably to keep from drawing attention to himself and catching a whopping case of apathy.
So, this probably wasn't the best time to figure out which collars go on which bars and monitor anyone.
Then Diablo shows up so we had to pretend to be motivated. Kingsley did this by leaving. The rest of us resorted to acting. Diablo's in fine spirits and joking around with us a bit.
In closing I can now share what most of you already know. Bubbles got herself knocked up and is expecting a baby! She's been pretty vocal about this already but I officially got permission to post this wonderful news yesterday.
CONGRATULATIONS TO BUBBLES AND HER HUBBY SCIFI!!!
I'm certain all will go swimmingly and hope nothing but the best for her family!!! I'm also certain not to make eye contact, to be as skinny as goodMood, and not whine about anything by the time Bubbles drags her sleep deprived rear end into work after her kid is born.
IronMan is suspicious, "This bar is a thirty-five," he announces after getting up off the bench press. definitelyNeedsaName, humping an elliptical over in the corner (he was BAD and put in time out) says, "Nope it's a forty-five." Kingsley strolls over and starts talking about how it's a standard bar, pointing to various grips and what not, casting a it's a forty-five vote.
IronMan remains skeptical, "Well it feels light." he says while slapping more weight on the bar.
I'm staggering around after thirty five minutes of intervals (makes a mental note to work on my ode, Intervals, How I Loathe Thee... Let Me Count the Ways) on the recumbent wondering how he can tell. Still it's important. If you're staring into the smoldering eyes of your significant other or boozy eyes of some drunk chick at the bar you want to be able to say, "Yeah I bench 320" with authority, not 310 because the bar is ten pounds lighter than you thought it was. That's demoralizing to both parties.
Bubbles is behind her throne desk giggling with ominous portent while working on my upcoming routine, "Bill, I'm going to assist you in losing more weight so... MORE CARDIO!" GROAN. She's going to invert my existing routine putting Cardio on MWF and two different 'core' routines for TR.
oh boy
She also offers up the scale in the trainer's room so that we can solve The Mystery of the Bar's Weight once and for all. I was cast in the role of 'Shaggy' but that's just typecasting. Once IronMan was done benching (I was given the honor of spotting for him) we grab the two bars of same style and weigh them. The suspicious bar clocked in at 43.5 pounds and the other one at 44 pounds.
Boy was I impressed! IronMan can spot a pound and a half difference even when he's lifting a gazillion pounds! Keep these bar weights in mind if you're training for the Olympics though, it could come back to bite you during the snatch.
I had stalled enough and it was time for my ABS. I was the picture of inebriated grace during the BOSU Sit Up/Get Up part of the show but Bubbles threw me a bit off stride asking I had had ever done some hellish abs thing with a stability ball. I flashed back to her ABS Class for Grownups and recalled it quite well. So that's in my future, uh, super.
As I was headed to breakfast I cross paths with McBeal coming in after her bike commute carrying a mere backpack. Amazing. She'll turn the contents of said pack into a high fashion wardrobe. We shoot the breeze while I silently gnash my teeth at her efficiency, glumly thinking of my two panniers and trunk for all my crap. Who's the bigger GIRL Ally, huh? HUH?! (rolling eyes at my girly self).
Sitting down at my desk with my two eggs (over easy), two pieces of bacon (Kingsley does NOT approve - Bill has twelve moms with all the folk watching what I eat) and tea I blink at the monitor.
Two meeting invites from Bubbles on Tuesday and Thursday so she can assist me in achieving my goals await.
There are men, and then there are MEN like IronMan, Diablo, goFast, intoIt and goodMood. Last night at 7pm TomS joined their manly ranks. Scoffing at costs TomS threw himself into road biking with abandon. Need a helmet? A pump, gloves and shoes? Buy them. His whole 'in for a penny' attitude shows that he's determined to make this work as a workout vehicle for him. Walking wasn't cutting it, too many ailments from his marathon days.
And I remember TomS from his running days, his dedication to it. I honestly think this will work for him and shortly he'll be logging long miles on his bike.
Having given up all hope for a Tuesday delivery at 2:33pm I was surprised to receive a text from TomS, "IT'S HERE!!!" His excitement palpable. He needed our minivan since he couldn't cram the bike into his car and I wanted to go along anyway. It's not everyday you get to be there "when it all began..."
We went to the Trek store and he was clipped into his bike on a trainer while a dude watched him. He looked good and no adjustments were needed to be made. TomS bought two water bottle cages and was given two water bottles gratis, we put the bike on the top of the car and headed back to his place. He took the bike out for a few lazy laps and then called it a day due to darkness.
A blur of biking fury TomS rides by...
Later I received word that some miscreant had 'borrowed' his daughter's bike. In a flash TomS rode the villain down and recovered the bike feeling a bit exposed without a helmet, no blinkies and it being dusk at the time.
Perhaps, one day, I'll join them in the MAN club... awwwww who am I kidding?
My Garmin has confused itself on the date and time figuring today's workout happened on April 1st, 2007 at 6:04 PM.
::sigh:: I'll have to figure that out. Turns out it needed to talk to some satellites to get the correct date and time - go figure.
I blew through today's workout, once again not riding the bike in but it was already very muggy and probably going to rain. I hope you enjoyed yesterday's nice weather.
As I left the gym I passed marathonMan on his way in to do the triathlon (1500 meters rowing, 5 miles cycling and 2 miles running - all on machines). Another manly man. I hope he logged a great time!
I didn't ride in today pretty much insuring the prettiest day ever. You can thank me later. There was all this gab about 40% chance of thunderstorms and I just didn't want to deal with it. I managed to ride my bike in six consecutive workdays which I'm pretty happy about, but it better rain today :-)
TomS and I are growing impatient with waiting for his new bike. We've gone on a hunger strike to make sure Trek knows we're serious about this bike thing. Mine ended at 7:30am with two eggs, two bacons, some coffee and tea to take the edge off the coffee. I'm pretty sure Trek got the message! Hopefully TomS will get his bike today!!! I've suffered enough in his cause.
I had trouble sleeping last night, not sure why, probably the worry over TomS's bike. I should be a real joy today so you might want to keep your distance. Anyhoo I was up at 4am and in the gym by 5am, I became concerned when I saw one of the ghostPeople wiping down a bike while The Women in Trouble! network blared out of a TV. Sheesh, you know you're early if Kingsley isn't in and the ghostPeople are still working. I was so exhausted last night, what gives? Whatever.
So I switch the channel hoping those poor women manage to break their date with darkness or whatever problems they're going through, turn down the volume, hop on an upright and go at it. I decide to do 35 minutes of work with a five minute warm up on the front, and a five minute cool down on the back.
Real biking is better or at least less boring but there is benefit from these cardio machines. For example when I'm riding my bike you get a fair amount of coasting in which helps for distance. The machine is relentless. I'm going around an eight, varying it from a seven to a nine when needed and trying to keep my cadence near 90. Those thirty five minutes were tough but I think it will help on the real bike. My HR average was 154 (76% MaxHR) for the work interval.
With about fifteen minutes left and me swimming in despair, IronMan enters with a clipboard and shoves it in front of me. I stare at it blearily trying to make the letters form into words. He's concerned that if something happens to me (he must have read yesterday's post) that the cottage will fall into disrepair so it's for the best if I just sign it over to him now.
Makes sense.
I ask for the date and scrawl out a signature on the form. He reads it as he walks away. It reads, "Bite Me - 18 Aug 09."
He glances back at me, "Mistimed it, huh?"
mmhmm
Ten more minutes and he might of had some real estate.
I get off the bike and stagger/stretch around the gym. awesomeGirl has mysteriously shown up but today she's grumpyGirl, I minimize my contact, I've had enough brushes with death of late. IronMan and goodMood are helping torture themselves and I'm doing ABS like a good boy.
I very nearly died or got seriously hurt Friday. THAT was a great cardio workout let me tell ya! I'm pedaling up a hill that leads out of the parking lot at work, there's a traffic light at the intersection of the parking lot since the road is heavily traveled. The light is red and it's the start of rush hour(s), around 4:30pm.
I'm heading up the hill going, I don't know, call it 8-10mph and setting up to make a hard right hand turn onto the bike path. My bike is 'mushy', the panniers stuffed with all the crap Bill needs to be functional at work. My hands are on the top bars and I'm feeling fine. I managed to ride the bike into work every day that week and felt pretty good about that.
I'm entirely too casual on the bike for the turn I'm about to make.
I start the turn, realize I don't have a prayer of making it, probably due to the weight of the bike and am staring at a very unfriendly curb, its hard right angle pretty much guaranteeing I'll get thrown off the bike if I hit it. I'm scanning the curb looking for any options of getting over it and finding none. My hands have an all too appropriate death grip on the top tube and the brakes are so far away I might as well not have them.
With growing dread I realize I'm headed out into traffic, unannounced. As I swing out there I keep my head down, listening for the squeal of brakes, the hated horn. I really don't want to see the car that hits me, the fear and horror on the driver's face. I'm sad, I feel really bad this happened and it's all my fault. I'm about midway out into the first lane when the bike pretty much stalls and it's still quiet. I begin to hope I'm going to get out of this jam as I hop off the saddle and begin frantically duck walking to the curb while straddling the bike. I feel like Tim Conway in that old man routine he did on the Carol Burnett show, I'm going so slow.
As I pull parallel to the curb the first car whizzes past in my lane. I still have my head down mortified by my rudeness and stupidity. I get the front tire over the curb and heave the rear, pannier laden tire over the curb before getting on the bike path and heading home jonesing for a shot of whiskey.
How was your Friday commute?
What I took away from that experience is
I'm an ass
Never be casual on a bike, treat it with respect
ALWAYS have your hands on the hoods when attempting a turn so you at least have the option of braking
Can you spot on this HR chart where Bill went out frolicking in traffic?
We went down to see my parents this weekend. It was a very pleasant, exercise free weekend. Dietarily speaking, what happens at the parents, STAYS at the parents. They're getting along just fine.
Sunday was a bit busy. I just had to clean my bike, particularly the chain. So I hooked up this chain cleaner I got from Amazon and went at it, cleaning the whole bike. After Friday I figured the old girl needed a little TLC.
Dirty bike!
Clean bike!
Clean bike
Then my wife and I walked to the pool and did some swimming which was pleasant. My son showed up and we clowned around in the pool a bit. My daughter was with her friends and I saw her walk by but knew enough not to speak to her, it would mortify her!
Last night I checked the weather and it looks like today is the only good time to ride the bike in, some cold front is moving in and I needed to get back on the horse anyway. It was a good ride in, my bike all clean and new and quiet. That's one thing about riding in at 4:18am, it's quiet.
The gym was also quiet this morning, just me, Kingsley and AT Everest. I hammered through the total body, did a fat burn on the treadmill and then some stretching. PonyTail, goodMood and others were showing up about when I was done. I weighed in figuring that at best I held even, I lost a pound :-)
Standing at five foot five, she saunters across the store floor with her thumbs stuck in the back pockets of her jean cutoff's because they're too tight to get her hands in them. Her baggy white tee stands in contrast to her form fitting shorts. Her wind blown blond hair loose and hanging just past her shoulders, utterly relaxed in her twenty-somethingness, a bright limitless future still before her. The only way she could look more vacant would be chewing gum.
TomS and I have been scouring the racks of the Trek store trying to find a 520. Having finally deciphered the bizarre store dress code by figuring if you're standing behind the register you probably work there I ask, "Where are your 520's? We want to check them out."
She cocks her head, giggles and says, "Do they even make those anymore?"
There's going to be trouble.
"Um... yeah they do," I reply.
bubbleheadBarbie is unconvinced and decides to check on the store computer. By this point in time her credibility is shot with me and I'm glancing around the store trying to figure out who else works in the joint and might help. The casual store attire isn't helping with this. There are two dudes over to my left muttering over some bike that with a glance I can tell is out of our price range but they look like buddies and so there's not much help there.
She strolls back over saying, "We don't have any in the store but there are some in the other store, would you like for me to have one shipped over?"
Maybe. "Can you help size him?"
She eyes TomS's freakish body, challenged by his too short legs and extended torso. She has him straddle the bike, stand on his tippy-toes so he can get in the saddle, putting his hands on the hoods and asking if he can see the hub of the front tire over the handlebars before pronouncing him a 54.
We collectively stare at the racks of bikes like idiots, lost in our own thoughts.
TomS asks about her take on the 2.1 and she asks what he plans to do with it, long rides, short rides, what? TomS wants to work his way up to long rides and she says the 2.1 is a fine choice for that and then begins babbling, "You might want to consider SRAMs as opposed to 105s or maybe Ultegras. I was on this girl's wheel in some race and they all had Ultegras or SRAMS and I could hear them shifting up much faster than I could. So now I'm struggling to hold the wheel ya know? So I begin hammering trying to hold on but I couldn't so I look behind me going are you bitches going to work with me so that we can catch back up? Line up! Anyway it's a much smoother shifter."
Mmhmm word.
I'm staring at her hard now catching a hint on what lies beneath that baggy tee and noticing her arm tone. I'm starting to feel like Paul Newman did in The Color of Money when he was 'played' by Forest Whitaker. This girl knows road bikes.
"You race?"
"Well I haven't in about a year but I use to race for Ohio State... their club team," she says giving me the impression we should all feel like 'club team' is some sort of demerit.
I'm sorta falling in love with her. She's actually been in a peloton! She's competed! She's dangerous. She's dangerous in the sense a lot of these serious athletes are, they don't brag, they're too experienced for that, they're quiet, exuding this Bob Dylan aura You think I'm over the hill, You think I'm past my prime, Let me see what you got, We can have a whopping good time, if you're experienced enough to pick up on it. I rename her pelotonBarbie.
Armed with information TomS and I head out.
The next morning he sexts me that he's ready to buy.
That evening we're back in the store. pelotonBarbie is nowhere to be seen much to TomS's relief. He want's to be sized by a dude and not for some sexist reason, well maybe, you make the call, he needs to ask about his unmentionables and cover various aspects of the saddle and said 'privates' and how to keep parts of his anatomy from falling asleep. This sort of talk would dangerously arouse pelotonBarbie and honestly he has a point - there are certain differences between the sexes that are best covered by someone of the same sex.
We catch the eye of Bama who I've misnamed because he's from Georgia but so what? Most of the folk at this Trek store seem to be into mountain biking but that doesn't cut down on their knowledge of bikes. Bama eyes TomS's freakish body, challenged by his too short legs and extended torso and immediately pronounces him a 56. He then backs that up by strapping some pedals on the bike and going out riding with him. Whatever happened out there shall forever remain between those two. TomS refuses to discuss it.
Left with my son, who wanted to tag along to observe the middle aged males in the thrall of full midlife crises, I began eying the bikes with something akin to lust. I want a car, badly. What I mean by that is my 520 is a truck, it's very good at what it's designed for but it handles like a truck. I want a fast, twitchy car for long bike rides... sigh.
Some dude strolls by on his way out asking if I have any questions. I'm showing him the 4.1 I'm looking at (I have to get a bike slightly better than TomS's and the 2.3 isn't a big enough hop which puts me in the Madone class and a 4.1 - for the ladies out there, it's a guy thing, don't try and figure it out) and receive a twenty minute lecture on shifters and various ways I can keep near my price range but FOR THE LOVE OF GOD you want SRAM shifters! Followed by an in depth discussion on the various types of SRAMs happily yakking about Red, Rival and Force as if I had a clue what language he was speaking. I nod knowingly, completely lost at this point but figuring its safer to humor him.
One thing I'll say about this Trek store is the staff are serious bike geeks, keep in mind this guy did this on his own dime, off the clock. They love bikes here.
By the time he was done I simply had to have a Trek 4.7! Plus the paint job IS TO DIE FOR! Everyone behind the counter wants one if they can't pony up enough for a project one bike and like Bama said, "Who cares if it's TCT Carbon instead of OCLV?"
Do I care? I'm pretty sure I don't want to know, I'm already about $500 over what I had set as my upper limit and there's no turning back. It's a 4.7 for Bill gosh darn it, but when? I must run the gauntlet of central purchasing, that can be tricky but doable if I whine enough, plead my case sincerely. Ah, there's the rub, I must first convince myself that I will do long, pointless bike rides like other dudes who disappear for four hours to play golf on the weekends. An added challenge will be doing that on my boat anchor 520. Still, it must be done. One doesn't drop this sort of coin on a lark which is why I haven't bought that Fender. I don't rate it.
Still... I could pay it forward. You know get the bike, which will by its very presence make me ride it, if just to save my marriage. I could just ride down to the local United Dairy Farmers if I'm not in the mood that day, hang out eating ice cream and reading magazines until they kick me out... she'll check the odometer or even worse trust me. The guilt will eat me alive... nope, I have to ride it. A lot! I'm up for that. If I get it now, even though I've never actually seen one, much less ridden one I can get some serious miles in on it before winter...
THANK GOD!!! TomS enters through the back of the store walking the 2.1 in. I can immediately tell he's dropped close to eight pounds and his face is molding into that chiseled biker face of the serious road warrior. He can barely bring himself to make eye contact with me and my stodgy 520 ways. In a few months he probably wont let people know that he actually knows someone who has a kickstand on his bike.
Is he smirking at me?!
He converses with Bama and decides to buy the bike. It's real pretty, wanna see?
Next came the mountain of crap he needs in addition to the bike. Helmet, pedals, shoes, gloves and bike computer. A whole bunch of stuff! When it was all said and done TomS had a bit of sticker shock but he got what he needed in my opinion to make sure he has fun, safe rides.
Except the bike of course. They had to order that. He should get it either this Saturday or the upcoming Monday or Tuesday. I can't wait to hear about his first ride! Maybe he'll let me ride with him so that he can practice dropping me...
goFast sent me this - it's where I'm headed I'm certain.
Remember, Exercise in Futility is a CAUTIONARY tale.
The legendary TomS is asking questions about my Trek 520, obviously coveting my prowess on said bike. Let's take a peek at my performance on the bike for the last thirty days...
The sound you're hearing is TomS gnashing his teeth in envy.
Here's what my bike would look like if I would get around to cleaning it
Trek 520 2005
TomS accurately described the bike in an email as a 'tank.' Here's a Trek 2.1 for comparative purposes.
Trek 2.1 2009
And this years Trek 520 - where they have made modifications to the frame after years of not touching it.
Trek 520 2009
Now there are lots of differences between the two bikes even though they clock in at the same price tag ($1,319.99) and you can spot a lot of the differences in the pics. TomS is interested in biking but what does he mean by 'biking'? Another way to ask the question is, "What do you intend to use the bike for?" This is why you'll see a lot of serious bike folk have two bikes, one to act as a commuter and one for the road. I try to use mine for both so I suffer from compromise.
The 520 weighs more, it's built with a "Cro-Moly" steel frame. Notice the number of spokes on the 520, that puppy is built to carry serious weight from panniers and can handle a pothole much better than the spoke arrangement on the 2.1. The 520 has end shifters which are easier to repair in the middle of nowhere if you have a mechanical issue, to be honest this might be a feature I may 'upgrade' eventually on my bike to STI type shifters. Finally the 520 has attachments for a rear rack so I can hang panniers off of it. For my general uses I find it invaluable for those trips to the grocery store. I can carry A LOT of stuff in those things and do so.
Now that I've tasted thirty mile rides on the bike I can see the point of having strictly a road bike. After my conversation with TomS last night I'm more of the opinion that he should strongly consider the Trek 2.1 or a similar type bike from another manufacturer. I think he's after using the bike for long 'workout' type rides as opposed to a jack of all trades type bike like mine.
Why am I telling you this? Two reasons, I get this question a fair amount of the time and because I need to document my descent into madness.
I've managed to ride my bike in three days in a row now - I'm hoping to do the entire week. Not much going on in the gym today. I spent most of my time trying to talk IronMan into going to Bob Evans but IronMan has this... what's the word? oh yeah discipline.
I finally man up for ABS and start to work on those. The BOSU work was awful, I can't remember how to do it and the BOSU bicycles were not done in the correct form.
