Did it. Got back on the bike this weekend after promising myself I’d do it “soon” for months. Ugh. Did it on a fixed-gear, too. Double-ugh.
Over the past year, I fell into trying a low-carbohydrate diet. I’d been the asshole telling everyone that it “is simply a reduced-calorie diet” and that “it just isn’t working for the reasons you think it is.” Reading a bit of the Atkins books in the bookstore didn’t help; the books are 99% motivational speeches with very little SCIENCE and DIET in them. It’s the Norman Vincent Peale version of dietary guides, and I DON’T need a sermon, I need WEIGHT-LOSS.
Then, last October, I tried it. And it worked. Dammit.
20 pounds in 4 months or so, then another plateau after losing 30 pounds. I backed off a bit, thinking I’d take a break, then start another run. I gained 5 pounds. So, I tightened up a bit, but dropped the idea that I could balance a “normal” diet with weight maintenance. Today, I’m still at that 30-pound loss, holding steady at 240 and looking hard at another press to start weight loss again with an exercise program. So, that’s where THIS thing comes in:
Yeah, it’s a fixie. Hipster, too. Look at all that Celeste Green. And WHAT is up with that stem angle?
The way I figure it, a fixie is the best thing in the world to make you do ONE thing: pedal. You’re going to pedal a LOT. An awful lot. And what do I need to do more than that? It’s the bike that makes downhills a nightmare that no coasting cyclist can understand. My membership card in “Fat Guys with Good Wheels” means nothing on the fixie. I can shortcut MONTHS of pre-training preparation with a couple weeks riding fixie-alone, right?
This emasculating mess of a bike beat my ass for a solid 6 miles on Saturday. Then, it did it again on Sunday. My weekend total, a whopping 14.4 miles.
Yes, I am a fat piece of crap, but even I’m not convinced that 14.4 miles on a weekend is anything to be particularly proud of. But tell that to the A in F.A.R.T. My butt was absolutely chewed UP over the course of this blip on the map. Raw, nasty, swollen streaks from tip to taint on both sides.
My chamois is good. Queen Helene’s Cocoa Butter Cream was well-applied. But the indignity of beginner-butt was demanded in payment for my long absence from the saddle. So here I sit, anti-bacterialized, be-creamed and sore whilst waiting 48 hours for the next installment. And then, to add insult to injury, I have responded to the adjurations of my friends to put the bike out of it’s misery (It’s NOT called “sit-up-and-beg geometry,” Tim. And no, Andy, puppies are NOT dying every moment.) and flip the stem over. And now I can look at it and wonder at my sanity while nursing my tender hinterlands.
Still, I wish I could get back out, today. And that…that DESIRE…is a good thing.