Or...how life gets in the freakin' way at every opportunity...
Today was Day 1 of my 2008 cyclocross training. Day 1 was supposed to happen back in June. But sh*t keeps happening.
I was supposed to have 2 solid months of Pilates before I started my training, but my gym only offers it Tues/Thurs and my team at work keeps scheduling meetings on Thurs. And then there's that GGP group ride is on Tuesdays - you know the one that blows all the stop signs and sprints twice a lap? Often it's the only ride I can do all week I just can't miss those 50-minutes of going cross-eyed trying to sit on Chris Phipps' back wheel. Anyone who has done that sketchy-ass ride knows it's hella hard, especially if you haven't been on a bike more than once a week. Once official training starts for me, that ride blows my weekly intensity numbers out of the water, so I have to go all cold turkey on it - which is pretty tough on my ego.
So I was going to start last week, but some server crashed and I had to fix it.
So I decided to start this week, got up early to hit the gym on Tuesday and there's a work phone call - no problem, I'll make it short. Two hours later my nose is to the grindstone and I never saw daylight until I sneaked out the 10 blocks to do the group ride, again.
So I decided to start today - stayed up late working last night to free up some time - running late for Pilates this morning I made for the door when "Crash!" - Liam's oatmeal hits the floor and glass goes everywhere, just as Rowan toddles into the kitchen...barefooted.
But somehow (read: 20-minute unplanned interval) I made it to class. I'm a little rusty and I'm sure the girls had a good giggle at me falling off the roller doing "roll-ups". Yes of course I'm the only guy in Pilates class at my gym.
But I made it
and I did some light intensity afterwards
and I sprinted up the stairs to our apartment with a new spring in my step
the planets have aligned
Cyclocross training has begun.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Let the Turkey Broil
I'm here working in my basement office and there's a guy out in the garage fixing our old boiler for our steam heat - no, the irony there is not lost on me.
But what is scary is that I think he's actually listening to John Ashcroft on his boombox while he works.
And I'm scared as hell to go out there...
But what is scary is that I think he's actually listening to John Ashcroft on his boombox while he works.
And I'm scared as hell to go out there...
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