The Apostate Bill

What am I doing on this bike? A W. C. Fields quote rolls through my head as I hammer the pedals trying to get through the pain while fighting to control my breathing, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Then quit. There's no point in being a damn fool about it."

Have I been a fool? That setback on Monday hit me harder than I thought causing me to stumble through the subsequent days like some moody goth chick. Like... like... an apostate. Disillusioned and disappointed. If I was a better writer (e.g. paid for it) I could become an alcoholic but that path is currently barred.

I catch IronMan in my periphery and salute. He waves back but keeps his distance. He doesn't want to catch what I've got. I don't blame him.

Must I renounce exercise?

I try that on for size during Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit, "I RENOUNCE TEEN SPIRIT."

sigh

Why am I on this damned bike?! Why did I drag my corpulent body out of the bed at 4:09 this morning so that the alarm wouldn't set itself off and wake my wife? I'm obviously delusional. I'm back at JRock's party, someone saying, "He works out everyday!" with that kind of tone you reserve for the truly extreme, the serious, scary ones - The Believers. McBeal sitting next to me on some soccer chair and we're discussing what sort of drug addicts my kids will become and how I'll deal with it. I half expect her to hand me her card saying, "Give this to your daughter for when she needs it." Oh great. My daughter will be represented by allyMcBeal when I get pissed off at her. I don't stand a chance. Sisterhood of the Traveling Panties - sheesh! Why can't guys get good representation when they mess up? Cuz we're idiots that's why. I'm in the car headed to a hardware store with my wife so that I can buy a lock so that someone else wont lock me out of my own locker. Weird. I'm devastated about this weight gain and my wife knows it. She's trying to help, "I think you're just putting on muscle. You've lost so much fat in your thighs, they're all muscle now."

"I do have awesome thighs don't I?"

"mmhmm"

"You should oil them so they glisten like a god's! Oil my thighs!"

She giggles. She'll never know how much I love that giggle. Live for it.

WHY AM I STILL HUMPING THIS BIKE?! Why, when I finally get off it will I proceed to Bubbles' hellish ABS routine and do them really hard, to the best of my ability if it's all for naught? So I can stand on that scale again next Monday and find out I've put on another four pounds like the exercise equivalent of Benjamin Button?

One thing I do know is that I can't/wont give up the treats. I do moderate them (sorta) but I can't stay away from them, I don't want to stay away from them. So does that mean I must renounce this path? Can I have it both ways?

I glance at the Garmin, average HR of 143. I've done better but my average cadence is around 98 which is close to a sprint for me. I've been holding that for fifteen minutes, five to go - ho hum - varying the level between eight and nine. I'm working hard here.

I'm working so hard.

Why wont the weight drop?

Bubbles drops dime with an email yesterday asking, "Interesting song today on your blog?" I can almost hear the implicit WTF?! I miss Zumba. I kick back to her what that's all about, my anger and disappointment with my weight.

Bubbles replies with a sliver of hope, in her typical direct fashion, "I’m finally looking over your food log from awhile back that I must have printed early July. Looks like you need MORE nutrients. You are not feeding your body what it needs to burn fat as fuel. Here are a few suggestions:"

I'm drawing a blank on the suggestions since I'm trying to keep the cadence above 100 for these final three minutes. OK?! Gawd I want to puke. Food? Who brought that up? Oh yeah, Bubbles did, trying to lay me low, put another notch on the ol' failure belt. Not gonna happen. I hold the cadence.

Covered in sweat I sit up on the bike, working my HR and breathing down. Feeling the onset of sanity and clarity. I do the ABS. I shower, stand on the scale (I just have to know!)

199

A five pound drop in 24 hours. And yes I went potty but I didn't give birth.

Weird.

And my mailbox is filling up with encouragement and helpful articles today. Thank you for sending them! I'll read them and bookmark the ones I find relevant to me. I might even comment on them, but not today.

Look, I don't know why I'm on that bike, I'm not sure I care.

Let me ask an honest question.

Why are you?