Almost two months ago I pointed at the center field fence and swung for another 20 pounds.
Swing and a miss.
I have lost another ten though. That's right, my tub now carries 30 pounds fewer guts than when this Greek tragedy started. Incidentally Greek yogurt is packed with protein and beneficial probiotics.
So, if I am measuring by the masthead on this sad little blog I look significantly better naked, but much to my chagrin I am not a significantly faster cyclist.
Last year I raced B's in cyclocross and consistently performed terribly. Back of the pack. Usually @1(that means I got lapped by the leaders for those of you who don't speak cyclocross). A few weeks after the Crusher I signed up for the Midsummer's Night Cyclocross race in Park City. This is one of the few sanctioned cyclocross races that happens in Utah. Weird. You know, categories with numbers instead of letters. Crazy. Anyway, I signed up Men's 3/4 because that was the lowest option. Then I got lapped. By kids. I was crushed. I dragged my sorry butt home and cried the tears of a homely teenage girl. I dug deep and tried to lose a few more. It didn't happen fast but eventually I was in the unfamiliar territory of the high 160's. People I don't see often were starting to notice that I had lost weight. I had the confidence of that guy in the Extenz commercials. I was hitting a lot of PR's on Strava. Disclaimer: Strava is lame but it is a pretty easy way to track your own performance. No better way to tell if you are actually getting faster or just riding with slow people. Anyhow, I was looking forward to the P-town Cross series that started last week because I thought maybe I would finally have a grand return to racing. Like returning to Junior year with your acne all cleared up. I had my bike pretty dialed, bibs didn't fit like sausage casings and I was optimistic. Then the race started.
I did...okay. Last year I would have been ECSTATIC with slightly ahead of mid-pack. It was simply not a possibility. This year I have lost THIRTY DAMN POUNDS. I am finally comfortably under ten minutes from the booth to the cave in AF canyon. I am back in 32" pants. Why am I not killing it? Why is Cobourn who has been on a bike precisely twice since Crusher only two spots behind me? (Mostly that was to point out that he WAS behind me)
I don't know.
It seems that I have moved on from gluttony to pride. Possibly greed. There are seven deadly sins gentlemen. As Morgan Freeman and Brad Pitt will tell you none of them turn out well. If I was a badass I would say that at tomorrow night's P-town I am going to try WRATH! But big talk with no follow up makes for embarassing facebook mockery.
Taken as a whole I have made marked improvement. But now I want more. I don't just want to fit nicely into my Dad jeans, I want a freakin' six pack. I once thought if I hit 165 I would have one. 165 is in sight and guess what. That ain't happening.
So, I will just keep plugging away. I will eat small healthy breakfasts. I will pack my lunch. I will swill zero calorie energy drinks. I will ride my bike as much as possible. I haven't given up on the next ten but the last week has put things on a bit of a pause. Busy, lazy, etc.
I also gave up on the Crossfit thing. Okay, I actually never tried it.
