|Need more of this.|
Not obese. Not yet. But fat I am. Fatter than I've ever been.
One-hundred-ninety. That's what I weighed-in at yesterday (and today). After my ride. After crossing paths with my old friend Tony, the manager at the bike shop where I used to spend my summers.
"Hey fatty!" he called out as we recognized each other from some distance away. I greeted him with the same, of course. Though it really wasn't true; he's as fit as he's ever been right now, I think.
I am not, however, so his greeting didn't shock me. I've been aware of my new bulkyishness for some time; waistbands are good barometers of such things and mine have been growing ever-snugger of late.
When I was fast, years ago, I was 160. For the last decade or so, I've felt best at about 175.
It was when Tony said, "Look at your legs, they're all chubby. You've got chubby fat-guy legs, Johncoe!" that I resolved something needs to be done about my situation. I don't want to be that-guy, all pudgy and stuffed into his lycra. But right now, I guess I am.
School's out in early June, a little over a month from now. Can I get there by then, so I'm more ready for the Tuesday Morning Ride? Probably not. But maybe close. The days are longer, so maybe I can start getting out on a ride or two during the week after work, before dinner. If I can just find more time to ride, I think the weight will come off easier than if I try to starve myself back to 175. I think that makes the best sense: ride more, eat a little less. Right?
The bottom line: I need more time to ride. Less time behind a desk. More time on wheels in the woods. Riding's more fun when you're less fat; exercise is good for the soul; the woods are lovely, dark and deep. There are a million more good reasons why I need to do this. And I'm gonna.
Don't wanna be fatty-fat-fat no more.