Saturday, 8 September 2012
Forgive me, for I have sinned. It has been 3 weeks since I last rode my (new, expensive) bike. And I can't really put my finger on why. Oh, don't get me wrong, I've got plenty of excuses. In no particular order, some of them have been: Kids, Work, Tired, Weather, Ironing, Vuelta, Tomorrow, and Wine. But none of these explain why I'm finding it so damned hard to get motivated. Especially now the weather's perked up a bit.
So what have I been doing while I've not been riding my bike? Ridiculously, I have mainly been sat on my ever expanding arse, moaning about how wobbly various areas of me are getting. To add insult to injury, I'm off on holiday in a couple of weeks, about to subject myself to a week of trial by bikini. I attempted a dry-run with the sodding thing yesterday. The results were not what I would hope - please feel free to insert your own ocean-based mammal joke here, with extra points if you can work a reference to Greenpeace in. Like rubbing your tummy while patting your head, trying to walk in a two-piece while holding everything in and attempting to hide your bum from the majority of terrified onlookers is a skill requiring serious mental agility and plenty of practice. But I digress. The daft thing is, I know I'll be ok if I just get over it, get on the bike and get a ride done (you might note I didn't use the word enjoy in that last sentence. That was deliberate - I'm not there yet). There's really only one answer. I've got to escape the gravity of my own inertia. This blog post is my solemn pledge that I am going to lycra-up this week and get out on my bike - no excuses.
Must try harder.