Stepping

Funny things happen when you step on the scale: your mind doesn't want to believe your eyes. It happened to me this morning when I stepped up, grunted, got off, then thought about what I saw. I got back on and, yep, it was 234. That was my weight in 1991. Nice.

Last night was a marathon ride of eleven miles, not far but for this one straight stretch of road. I hunkered down into the wind and pedaled. Looking back, I understand now that I was in "gym mode" and focused solely on turned the pedals. It was hot and sweaty work but it’s what this fat boy needed to burn off the day.

I later went on a ride on the MTB with the wife through the neighborhood and I’m already seeing improvement in her fitness. The challenge is staying with the program but isn’t that the same for all of us.

Stream of consciousness: The “here and now” mentality of riding is creeping in a lot when I’m on the streeter and it’s looking like that’s normal. This bike is much faster and there’s less room for error because a mistake in traffic at 25 MPH would not be fun. I’m okay with that.

Word of the ride: smokin’.