Nordic Aryan Master Race - Methinks Not

Back on the bike - dammit! I'm stuck in a weird head space pondering my next move. After yesterday's whine fest I decided to strap on a heart rate monitor and put Diablo's manifesto to the test.

Now my thighs burn and I'm tired - I'm bitter since I appear to have been cheated on the endorphin buzz, which is an interesting high since I feel a bit like a member of the Nordic Aryan master race when under its influence. All superior to you weak fools who phoned it in - again. It's a great high until I get bitch slapped by the deep dark truthful mirror and behold the flabby, middle aged wreck that is Wheezy. It's why I don't look into mirrors, they're Aryan Master Race destroyers.

 So its been about an hour since I finished my brutal thirty-five minute workout and I have to say, "I'm not feeling any thinner here Diablo!" I guess I did something wrong and will have to do it again.