Inertia

There's an elephant in the room.  A white one, with pretty gold accents.  And she keeps giving me dirty looks...

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.