Fun Friday

After the bullshit last Sunday, it's nice to be able to look forward to the weekend.  Yeah, I made it through another week.  I still have my cycling license, my desire to be what's wrong "this sport", and most importantly, I'm still obese.

I can't help it.

  
Yeah, I like to eat.  That's what us jolly folks do when we're ruining cycling.  I have no willpower, and temptation gets me easily.

It's cool.  I actually feel pretty good about myself for the most part.  And, I actually am looking forward to this weekend at the short track.  Lots of other people around here are too.  Let's hope our new friend shows up, ready to talk some more shit.

Seriously though, who gives a shit.  I've got bigger shit to worry about right now.  It's gonna be cold this weekend.  I mean, really cold. Like, colder than a polar bear's backside.

Shit.  Maybe I'll see y'all Monday.


Oh yeah.  Not enough funny? Watch this:



I'm out.  For realz this time.

If I’m Not Careful…

I’m gonna get fat.

A few years ago, my “offseason” meant plenty of eating and drinking with a little riding thrown in.  While my normal weight is 225 pounds, it would be uncommon for me to shoot up to 235 pounds by the time January rolled around (two years ago I got all the way up to 245.)  Last year, I rode a lot more and kept myself right at my in-season weight of 225.  I figured out that it was pretty easy to do, so I decided that from now on I would stick to it and not put on my traditional offseason flab.  This year it’s not looking so good though.

The weather around here has been extra shitty lately, which means that my riding has been reduced dramatically.  As a matter of fact, I haven’t been on my bike in almost two weeks.  I can blame some of it on the rain, some on the cold, and some on working late, but mostly it’s because I’ve been pretty lazy.

Plus I’ve been eating a lot more for some reason.

It’s been good stuff though, like these deep fried Oreos with ice cream:

And the jar of M&Ms I keep next to me in the living room:

And to top it off my cousin just sent me a giant box of steak:

You know, shit like that.  Couple that with not riding enough lately and I bet I can break my offseason record of 245.  I know it could happen, so that’s exactly why I’m not gonna let it.  You see, unlike most people that allow themselves to get all big and chunky, I’m too disgusted by shit like that to allow myself to fall prey to it.  I don’t want to be a big tubby sumbitch, which means I’m gonna get off my ass and do something about it. 

I’m sure that some people just give up and buy bigger clothes when they start packing on the pounds.  Don’t do it.  Don’t be weak.  Don’t be lazy.  And definitely don’t be a Lardassian.  I’m smart enough to realize where not riding and eating more can lead, and I won’t give in.  I’ll ride in the cold, rain, tornadoes, whatever.  A couple of extra pounds around the holidays is normal (so people say), but forget normal. 

Being a big ‘un is a choice, and I’m choosing to keep it from happening.  With more shitty weather allegedly on the way for this weekend, I’ll get my ass out in it if I have to.  It’s not just about the weight, because riding keeps me sane and happy.  And I’m one grumpy, depressed motherfucker right now. 

And you thought fat people were jolly.

Lose Weight In Two Easy Steps

I’m not gonna get all preachy on y’all but this has been bugging me lately…

I work in a hospital.  While I don’t do anything clinical (I’m a tech guy), I still figure that the employees that help sick people get well should have to set some kind of example.  However, most of the workers in our health care facility (just like the rest of the population) are out of shape to say the least.  All day long I see people shoving down fistfuls of snacks in between taking care of patients, all while they complain about needing to lose weight.  They take the elevator to go one floor (down even), bitch about walking across a parking lot to their cars, and gossip all day about all the TV shows they watch every evening.  It’s really sad.  It’s not just here though for sure, because I see this all over the place. 

If you wanna get back in shape, lose your holiday weight, or whatever the hell else you want to call it, just follow this simple plan:

1)      Get off your ass.

That’s right, it’s that easy.  Quit bitching about how tired you are, or how you’re not as skinny as you used to be.  Go take a walk, ride a bike, or use the stairs whenever you can.  Stop sitting on your fat ass all day putting down calories that your body can’t burn off.  Your body isn’t meant to sit around all day.  Get out and do something.  Use those muscles for more than changing channels and walking to the fridge to get more snacks.

Which brings me to the next step…

2)      Put the damn fork down.

You like to eat, I get it.  However, you’re not a teenager anymore.  My sixteen year old can eat whatever he wants, but you can’t.  He’s pretty active by the way, so it’s not just because he’s a kid.  I learned that as I started getting older, a second or third helping isn’t required.  When I got joined the Army in 1990, I was 6’1 and 146 pounds, skinny as a rail no matter how much I ate.  They made me eat more, and with the traiing we did I bulked up to 200 pounds a year later (I also grew three more inches taller during that time.)  I eventually leveled off at 225, and I’ve been there ever since (aside from the occasional “offseason” fluctuations due to inactivity.)  The point is, you can’t eat like a starving teenager anymore.  Your metabolism has slowed down, and you eat like shit nowadays too.  If you’re gonna eat more than you think you should, then go back to number one up there and mutiply that by how many cheeseburgers (or beers) you consumed.

If you’re happy being a Lardassian, good for you.  I’m not talking about you at all then.  If you’re on the large and in charge side and you’re currently working to get your weight in check, that's really awesome.  I’m not talking about you either.  If it seems like the weight isn’t coming off as fast as you want it to, just be patient and don’t give up.  Most of the people that complain about needing to lose a “few pounds” don’t seem to be doing anything about it all though.  That’s a damn shame.  Quit bitching about it and go take care of yourself.  You don’t have some sort of genetic defect or abnormally slow metabolism.  You’re just lazy and you eat too much.  Get off your ass and put the fork down.

See?  Two easy steps.

Rant over.

I’m going to ride my bike so I can drink beer.

Riding For Fun

It's sometimes a lot harder than racing.  Some people call it training, but since my season is pretty much over I just call it getting out on my bike.  This past Saturday, me and the Dirty Party Cycle met up at the local man-made whitewater rafting place to get in some “quality miles.”  We started out early, because we knew it would be hot as shit come high noon.  We just missed a Dirt Diva ride by a few minutes, but I wasn’t totally upset about it.  Riding with a bunch of ladies would’ve been pleasant, but that’s not why we were there.  The plan was for multiple hours on the bikes, and to make it hurt.  Pleasant just wasn’t on the menu. 

We started out on one of the newer trails, and it took me a while to get my legs going.  Pedaling a single speed after not riding for a few days wasn’t going too well at first, but eventually I started feeling good.  After the first loop was complete, I stopped back by my truck to grab a drink.  The pain was about to start.

We took off, trying to keep a fast pace.  The DPC and I took turns leading each other through the woods, and we were having a blast.  I had plenty of power on the climbs, and I felt like I could ride at that pace all day.  When I got to one of the bigger climbs though, I tried to mash up and my foot came unclipped.  I tried to clip back in as I kept pedaling, but it wasn’t working.  I stopped at the top of the hill and told the DPC that I thought there was something wrong with my pedal.

There sure as shit was something wrong.

Yes, I bent the axle of a STEEL pedal.  While I have had issues with crankbrothers pedals in the past, I can chalk this one up to old age (the pedals, not me.)  I’ve had these things for a long time, and I figured that they wouldn’t last forever.  I didn’t think I would break a pedal in this manner though, so I guess I’m just a little shocked.  At 6’4” and 230 pounds I’m not freakishly large, but I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’m too big for little teeny tiny bike parts. 

It’s not like I’m fat or anything.

So anyway, I just so happened to have a spare set of pedals in the truck (because I know shit like this is bound to happen to me), so we took a quick detour back to replace them.  After a short wrenchin’ session, I was ready to roll again.  We picked up where we left off, and resumed the torture. 

We rode for hours, and I barely had enough energy to make the last climb out of there and back to the parking lot.  We packed up our shit, changed our clothes, and walked over to get some grub and a few beers.  We rode our asses off out there, and had a blast.  

My legs were tired, I broke some shit, and drank the hell outta some beer.

I would call that a success.

I’m actually glad I can ride for fun now.

Dazed And Confused

I’m feeling a little under the weather today, so I apologize in advance if this post makes absolutely no sense (most of them don’t anyway.) I mentioned yesterday that I attended some sort of barbecue shindig on Saturday afternoon, but I didn’t really elaborate. While I don’t partake in the eating of swine, we still went to this event to show a little support for our friend and neighbor, The Chili Man. I also went so I could enjoy some beer, but my hopes weren’t real high since I thought the selection would be shitty.



After parking in a lot in Uptown Charlotte, we walked over to the huge row of charred animal flesh vendors and took a gander at the various items for sale. It was your typical food festival, with tons of people wolfing down mass quantities of meats and such. We eventually found our hero, The Chili Man, just as he was about to pack up his wares and head home.



After a chat with Sir Chili, we walked around some more, taking in the sights. Although I didn’t see anything crazy like this, I did see some funny stuff:


I wouldn’t be so proud of that.

After finding some good beer (a nice pumpkin ale), we decided that we should grab some grub. Since pork products were out of the question, I settled on some alligator goodness made by some unknown folks. Well, it actually wasn’t good at all, since I kind of consider myself a connoisseur of such cuisine. Being a former Florida boy, I’ve had alligator as far back as I can remember, and the stuff I got at the BBQ fest was just plain sucky. From now on I’ll wait until my yearly pilgrimage to Florida to have some.


Anyway, the day wasn’t ruined by my choice of food. We saw some more hilarious/disturbing shit, with this next one being the best/worst. Check out this uh, clown that was entertaining the children:



Yes, that chair says, Uncle Curt. He was making balloon animals for kids, and he really creeped us out. Apparently his creepiness had no ill effects on the parents that lined up with their little ones, since he was pretty busy “entertaining.” Even though I was afraid to see what was on the other side, my curiosity got the best of me. I walked around to the front to see what all the fuss was about:



Bless his heart for trying to make a living, but damn. If Lunchbox was still toddler-sized, there’s no way in hell I would line up for a balloon animal. That’s just me, I guess. I’d like to tell you that good ole Uncle Curt was the funniest/saddest thing out there, but I would be lying. We walked up the road a bit and stumbled upon yet another strange sight:



Yup, that’s pig racing right there. I know we’re in NASCAR country and all, but the race of the day here in Charlotte was all about the swine. The announcer did his best to be funny, even naming the little piglet participants. With names like Brad Barbecue Pitt, Kevin Bacon, and the likes, this announcer guy was all about the entertainment. Too bad we weren’t. When the race started, I was already bored. We high-tailed it out of there and went on a quest for more beer to dull the pain.



See? All was not lost. This post however, is lost. Maybe I’ll be back with some bicycling stuff tomorrow, because I sure don’t want to talk about pig stuff anymore. This little girl shares my pain from the BBQ fest:

It Wasn’t A Race

That means I didn’t come in last place, but it doesn’t automatically mean that I would finish it either. Saturday was the Tour De Tots road ride, and I was hoping that my mechanical misfourtunes wouldn’t carry over to my road bike. I’ve mentioned before that I don’t necessarily enjoy riding the road bike, but for events like this it’s kinda cool. So, how did it go?


Well, it started out pretty normal, with the usual cast of characters you’re used to seeing around here. Lunchbox was there with the camera as always, so he managed to capture us at our finest.


Here I am ready for some roadie action:



The Dirty Party Cycle is equally prepared:



Cycling event promoter extraordinaire Neal Boyd was there putting on another great event:



We had a surprise guest as well, Zebra Man:



The DPC and I opted for the half metric century distance (31 miles) so we wouldn’t have to work too hard. Also, this would keep us out of the “serious roadie” crowd in which we obviously do not belong. When we lined up at the start/finish line, I noticed that we ended up at the front of the group for some reason:



I’m not sure why, but I kind of felt like we would be alright up there in the front. Last year, this very same event was my first-ever group ride on a road bike, and also the longest distance I had ever ridden on a bicycle at once. I’ve put in lots of miles since then, so I must have had some Lance-style aspirations or something. Since it wasn’t a race though, we took off without much fanfare:



We had a police escort from the starting point, but it was only enough to get us out of town and onto some country roads. The DPC and I were up front behind the police car, but I think he was trying to screw with us. We were mashing the pedals pretty hard to keep up, but the law enforcement cruiser just kept pulling away. The funny thing was, we were leaving the rest of the pack behind. Eventually, the donut containment vehicle pulled aside, and we were left to ride the country roads all by our lonesome.


We decided to slow down a bit, since I wasn’t sure if we could keep up that ridiculous pace for the entire ride. A few moments later the rest of the pack caught up with us. This is where the ride got really fun. I pulled the group a bit, and then I tucked in behind some riders for a little drafty action. After a few minutes of that though, I started to feel like I might be able to break away.


Even though this wasn’t a race, I wanted to see if I could get away. I jumped out from behind the two riders ahead of me, and attacked on a long, steep climb. I looked back over my shoulder, and I saw the pack behind me, appearing smaller and smaller in the distance. I heard one rider shout, “Don’t let him break away!” He was joking around of course, since he is actually one of our local mountain bikers that dabbles in roadie shit from time to time. After leaving the group a good ways behind, I started to think of how the Dirty Party Cycle might not enjoy getting left behind. I slowed way down, and the group caught back up to me. We all had a good laugh about my breakaway and subsequent “capture.” I tucked back in behind the pack and did a little more drafting.


Eventually, the urge to haul ass got to me again. The best thing about riding a road bike is the fact that I can reach speeds of around 40 miles per hour, which is way faster than what I can do on a mountain bike in the woods. I pulled out from the group and attacked again, leaving the peloton in my wake. I was having fun playing roadie, which probably wouldn’t have been the case if we had chosen to do the 62 mile distance.


I settled down the pace after that last breakaway, and decided to let the DPC catch up. The first rest stop was approaching at the 15 mile mark, so I stopped on the side of the road to wait for him. The sag wagon had just passed by me, and Lunchbox leaned out of the window and yelled, “Dang roadie!” He was having fun too (at my expense, of course.)


I figured that Lunchbox would get some good photos while he was riding around the course in the SAG wagon, but this is all he came back with:


Yay corn, that’s exciting.

The rest of the ride was pretty uneventful for the most part. The DPC and I settled into a 20 mile per hour pace, and we just shot the shit while we rode our skinny tires out in the country. There was one rather funny mishap though. When I was descending a long hill at a high rate of speed, some kind of bug flew right in my mouth, hitting me in the throat. I coughed a little to get him out, but that didn’t work. I nearly crashed trying to pull over on the side of the road to hack up this little insect, but I eventually got him out. I puked him out on my shoe, which was fun for him I’m sure. Maybe next time he’ll watch where he’s going.


We finished the ride, and it was a good one. I ended up with a little over 35 miles, and my legs felt great. This was a really fun ride, even if it was on the road. We chowed down on some good food after the event while we waited for the rest of the riders to come in. I managed to finish yet another ride without a mechanical failure, so maybe my luck is changing. When we left the Tour De Tots, we headed to the city to harass some barbeque folks, including this big fat pig:



Maybe I’ll talk about that hilarious event tomorrow, since I’ve gone on long enough today.