Mr. Weinie-Pants goes for a ride
The body is a most beautiful thing. Quite the piece of engineering.
A human machine.
You fuel it, you drive it, you get into wrecks with it.
Or, you don't fuel it. And you run out of gas.
Saturday, I rode the new Hornbeck Trail in Redding. It's four miles one-way and it's a kick. Pretty basic, for a mountain bike trail, but it has enough technical stuff to keep you interested.
I rode out and back, eight miles.
And I puked.
Mostly, I dry heaved for the last three-quarters of a mile.
It's called the anaerobic threshold, the place where the body can no longer flush away lactic acid in the bloodstream, which is the byproduct of the over-taxed muscles burning glucose.
Exercise hard enough, and you'll bonk.
Then, you'll puke.
I did the Hornbeck on a pot of coffee.
And a sammich. That I ate about 16 hours prior to riding.
I bonked, hard.
Then, the vomit (just once).
And the dry heaves (a lot).
I'm an idiot.
And a weinie.
I was hyper-concerned that I was going to fall (which I did). But I took several sections of this trail - a trail that is a true beginner's trail - off. As in off the bike.
A little hike-a-bike.
Like most all the uphill sections, the ones with the tight turns. The trail is so new that there's hay over a layer of dust. I made one mistake coming into a tight uphill turn and lifted up on the handlebars, when my front tire started to spin on the hay. I came to nearly a complete stop...
And fell over.
Didn't get hurt, didn't even draw any blood.
But I was ruined for the rest of the ride.
I weinied several tight turns.
And so there I was, out riding this fantastic trail, feeling good about being out - and just under the surface roiled some hefty anger. At myself.
For being a weinie.
And not taking care of the machine.
(And for not bringing my camera to record my wienie-ness.)
All I want is to lose another 20 pounds and regain the skill and confidence in a couple of pursuits I've put off for way too long. Mountain biking. Open-water swimming. Kayaking.
Practice makes perfect, this I know.
Eating well-balanced meals, several times a day, fuels the machine. Makes it go harder, faster, stronger.
It's a choice. One I have to create for myself.
(Oh, and everyone I waved at waved back. Most even said hello. Stevo, I think It's you, or the Lycra/Spandex.)
A human machine.
You fuel it, you drive it, you get into wrecks with it.
Or, you don't fuel it. And you run out of gas.
Saturday, I rode the new Hornbeck Trail in Redding. It's four miles one-way and it's a kick. Pretty basic, for a mountain bike trail, but it has enough technical stuff to keep you interested.
I rode out and back, eight miles.
And I puked.
Mostly, I dry heaved for the last three-quarters of a mile.
It's called the anaerobic threshold, the place where the body can no longer flush away lactic acid in the bloodstream, which is the byproduct of the over-taxed muscles burning glucose.
Exercise hard enough, and you'll bonk.
Then, you'll puke.
I did the Hornbeck on a pot of coffee.
And a sammich. That I ate about 16 hours prior to riding.
I bonked, hard.
Then, the vomit (just once).
And the dry heaves (a lot).
I'm an idiot.
And a weinie.
I was hyper-concerned that I was going to fall (which I did). But I took several sections of this trail - a trail that is a true beginner's trail - off. As in off the bike.
A little hike-a-bike.
Like most all the uphill sections, the ones with the tight turns. The trail is so new that there's hay over a layer of dust. I made one mistake coming into a tight uphill turn and lifted up on the handlebars, when my front tire started to spin on the hay. I came to nearly a complete stop...
And fell over.
Didn't get hurt, didn't even draw any blood.
But I was ruined for the rest of the ride.
I weinied several tight turns.
And so there I was, out riding this fantastic trail, feeling good about being out - and just under the surface roiled some hefty anger. At myself.
For being a weinie.
And not taking care of the machine.
(And for not bringing my camera to record my wienie-ness.)
All I want is to lose another 20 pounds and regain the skill and confidence in a couple of pursuits I've put off for way too long. Mountain biking. Open-water swimming. Kayaking.
Practice makes perfect, this I know.
Eating well-balanced meals, several times a day, fuels the machine. Makes it go harder, faster, stronger.
It's a choice. One I have to create for myself.
(Oh, and everyone I waved at waved back. Most even said hello. Stevo, I think It's you, or the Lycra/Spandex.)
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