Weekend warriors

I have a raging head cold.  R A G I N G.  But since it's still just above my shoulders, I figured that I should get out and ride both days over the weekend.  Especially since the weather was so nice and who knows how long that'll last...

Wow, what a bunch of boorish riders out.  BOTH days.  Many have a pet peeve of wheel suckers.  I say, if you can hold my wheel and dodge the snot rockets (allergies + cold = messy), my wheel is yours.  What annoys me more than anything is when people take themselves so seriously that they can't bother to call out "on your left", "great day, isn't it?" or just plain "hi" when passing.  When did every other cyclist become "the enemy"?  I found this was exclusive to men.  ALL weekend.  WTF?

Now, with a head cold, I'm doing the good old, Z1/Z2 ride.  Trying to keep my heart rate at a reasonable level, trying to get outside, and trying to get some fresh air and exercise.  I expect to be passed, a lot.  And I was.  But I swear to you, not a single person said a thing to me on Saturday (only one person did on Sunday).  Both days had interesting surprises, so let's just start with Saturday.

On my way home, on Foothill (home of the Foothill Olympics), I catch a gaggle of men at a traffic light.  I wasn't sure if they were all together, or what, but most of them were dressed in street clothes:  shorts, t-shirts and tennis shoes.  One guy had clip-in shoes.  Frankly, I don't care, I just noticed.  A few were wobbly, so I tried to roll up by them and get closer to the front, so I didn't get entangled once everyone started wobbling forward.  I got through and was happily in Z2 when one of those guys buzzed me.  He never said a word.  But I could tell by his body language that he was turning himself INSIDE OUT.  Hey buddy, good for you, but I'm in Z2...  He got further up the road, but Foothill being Foothill, he got stopped at a light.  I got closer.  I got stopped at a light.  Then he hit another red that I caught green, and the next thing you know, I'm on top of him.  Why do people ride the white line?  I never, ever assume I'm fastest, and stay over to the right to get out of the way (esp for distracted motorists who sometimes drive the white line because I guess the car lane isn't wide enough for their bad driving or something).  I digress.  Dude is flailing and as Phil would say, "He's all over his machine", and with that, he's kind of all over the bike lane too.  I check the car lane:  clear.  So I pass him, making sure to squeak out (my voice is going in and out with this cold):  "On your left".  I roll on.  Shoot, out of zone!  So I slow up a bit. Well, the guy is flailing along behind me, trying to catch and pass me.  Seriously?  I check and wait till he's about 1/2 a bike length back, then I just dropped the hammer on him.  Didn't sprint.  Didn't attack.  Just drilled it and rode away from him.  "Pass me now, b*tch".  :o)  Z5 does not equal Z2, sorry coach, but that boy needed to be schooled.  I hit the turn lane and rode home, gently.  Shortly afterwards, I dropped my cough drop, grabbed a handful of front brake and nearly ate it.  Oops.  It's a cough drop for crying out loud!

Sunday was more of the same, but I forced myself to not be so damned competitive.  I ran into two other guys at Woodside when I was getting water that afternoon, and all 3 of us commiserated about the same thing:  rude riders.  I even heard/watched the one compliment a guy on his bike.  Dude just ignored him and rode away.  ???  There's a chance he didn't hear him, or a chance he was just an unpleasant person.  But I don't understand that mentality.  If someone waves, you wave back.  If someone nods, you nod back.  You let a rider know you're passing and it doesn't have to be mean or sarcastic.  A simple "hi" is sufficient.

When did bike riders become the enemy to OTHER BIKE RIDERS?

Heck with 'em all.  I still had an enjoyable weekend on the bike.  But I also still have this cold.  Big bummer!

The weight loss challenge is ON!

Every year for the past 4 or 5 years, my friend MaryEllen and I embark on a weight-loss program. Always begins at the official end of road season, the glorious "off season". Last year, we started it a bit early, as I had surgery and wanted to start the week of the surgery, due to the sheer volume of snack food that was available to me at work. I needed 2 weeks away from all of that crap before I could really resist it. That worked. It only took 1 week of longing, sideways glances before I was able to steer clear, and continue down the road to a lighter body.

Well, the challenge takes us into the holidays (accck), and into the new year, when racing begins all over again. Both of us reached reasonable losses, but neither achieved the lauded: GOAL WEIGHT.

Here we are in October. Both of us are at the same weight as January. Yeah, generally good not to gain it all back again, but this is the dreaded plateau. Ugh. For nearly 10 months, maintaining has been pretty easy. The first 3 weeks were fine. But I didn't drop a single pound. ME fluctuated a bit, but was generally heading in the right direction. My body is stubborn. Really stubborn. I actually gained a pound one week (sh*t), but quickly got rid of it again... What to do now? I had to employ serious tactics in order to start dropping weight:

• Restrict ANY and ALL junk (stopped eating any candy,chocolate and/or chips)
• Learn how to go hungry without getting into that weird "I'm so hungry I could eat my shoe" place... That's a fine line - trust me.
  
• Employ drastic measures: my brain

Back when I was bodybuilding, the diet was the worst part for me. The WORST. I could lift weights, run, do whatever for however long, but when it came to dropping the necessary body fat needed to compete? Just shoot me. I remember being at shows, and someone would step out into the harsh lights, and the first thing that came to mind: "Damn. He/she should have dieted for another 8 weeks...". I never wanted anyone to say that about me! You're standing on stage, wearing 4 teensey triangles of fabric, under the harshest lights EVER (makes dressing rooms look weak, in comparison), and the last thing you want is for someone to see that Snickers bar you scarfed down a few weeks ago, planted firmly on your butt cheek. Sounds harsh, but it was a tough sport. Nobody cared what you looked like 6 months ago, how far you'd progressed, it only mattered what you looked like, for those 5 minutes (or so) you were standing on stage in a bikini. Nothing else mattered. You had to have a really thick skin... Totally unhealthy, for sure, and I blame that lifestyle for making it so darned hard for me to drop any weight now that I have a normal, healthy diet, but it was necessary to be that way for the sport. Of course, I had no butt back then, and was utterly unable to sit at the bus stop the last month or so before a contest, because any fat stores were just gone. Pfft. Just like that. But my brain was the most effective tool in my arsenal for dropping weight back then.

I'm using it once again. Much like the fear of being seen naked, the fear of "if I put this in my mouth, where will it end up on my body?" and "do I really NEED that? Or am I just wanting to eat something?"... Hey, it works for me. The weight is coming off now, FINALLY! All it takes for me is that first pound to be lost, then I'm on a roll... I won't eat the roll, but I'm on one. :o) And this time, I'm going for that elusive: super-stretch goal. I'm just 2 pounds from my goal as I write this, and it will be 4 to that weight which I've not weighed in over 10 years. When I get there, the first thing I want to go do is climb some big hill on my bike. Then I'll probably have to buy some new jeans, because even the skinny jeans are starting to be less and less snug...

Even using a scale, jeans are the better indicator of weight loss. They either fit, or they don't. No getting around it! I may have to go buy a new pair or two sooner than the holidays... Now that's an awesome dilemma!