Due to a late start Thursday, I didn’t get the opportunity to chase down my purple rabbit as I assume he was already at work while I was late. Perhaps Friday.
Kryptonite. You evil thing, seeking to unhinge my success, subvert my path and bring me back from whence I’ve come.
When I started cycling, it was out of pure exhilaration and enjoyment. Even now the anticipation of riding gets me excited be it my routine commute or my next great cycling adventure (read abandoning the family for hours of solo time). Along the way I lost some weight. And I kept losing so I started to pay attention. I’ve managed to drop 25 pounds, 30 if you stop checking at the post-70km weigh-in but prudence dictated I put some fluids back (even if they were sneak-attack pickle juice fluids).
So now I’m hovering around my wedding weight – the weight I had before the road trip home to visit childhood friends and my parents before moving overseas. The road trip where we left Hay River with more home-made cookies than any party of 12 needs. The road trip where we sat in Best (new) Wife’s VW Rabbit and ate home-made cookies for 1000 miles. Despite my efforts over the ensuing 11 years I never quite recovered and indeed fell further into the abyss. From a gym-built 205 when we got married to a cookie-and-laziness-built 205, 210 then 215. Since I’d first set foot in the gym a flabby 175 pounds, I dreamed about being 220 but not this kind of 220. Then 225. Then 230. Urgh… How do I stop this train?
If you’ve already done the math I don’t need to say I’m down to a cycling-built 205 again. Just under actually. I was here more than two weeks ago too but then an evil genius salesman dropped three boxes of Kryptonite on my desk. I resisted at first but eventually I couldn’t help myself. One peek in the box couldn’t hurt. I might as well peek in the other boxes too – no point leaving them feeling left out. I’ll just open them all up for everyone else.
At first it’s the smell. Warm (how do they make a smell warm?) and intoxicating, the most powerful of its many weapons. It begins to break down the brain’s defences and immediately you find yourself struggling, struggling, resistance waning, resolve melting like snow on a red-hot woodstove. My willpower at the breaking point, I scanned the 36 doughnuts laid out in front of me and picked up a jam-filled dutchie. And then a liquid-sugar glazed wonder of mouth-delight, a chocolate-covered crème-filled sensory overload and finally a tractor tire (cruller I believe they’re called…or rather crueller). 1120 calories. That’s a full third (or more) of a reasonable food intake for a moderately active guy trying to lose weight. You’d think that would be enough to guilt a guy into some culinary discipline once more but that’s not how I work – sometimes ya just gotta hit the bottom first.
I don’t remember everything that I plowed into my piehole but I recall the last 2 inches of frozen yogurt in the bucket, more home-made cookies than I can count, extra servings of Best Wife’s unbelievably good cooking…I was a man on a mission of gluttony and excess. By Monday morning I was a very, very solid 210. Again. I can’t begin to express the disappointment staring back at me from the mirror. Thing is, I know this about me – one is too many (which also applies to my prolific ETOH consumption until 16 or 17 years ago). One may be the thin end of the wedge but for me it also carries a sledgehammer to drive that wedge to the breaking point.
Today being Thursday it is Doughnut Day at work, the source of my last implosion. This time I re-directed the tasty treats into someone else’s office leaving mine uninfected. I closed and locked my door, closed the blinds, put my earplugs up my nose and stared at my screen. Okay that’s not quite true but I did consciously avoid them and I prevailed! I escaped the day with nary a bite consumed and my dignity intact. I should note that I was not the only doughnut abstainer. Adam too was fighting the doughnut demons today and ordinarily I would take a moment to congratulate a man who’s successfully dropped more than 55 pounds this year….wait, I guess I just did.
For those in the know – Today is Thursday and you – well, you know. Thanks for reading.
To chasing down rabbits and beating your Kryptonite!
Once upon a time there was a little boy who rode his bike where ever he went and it was fun. He did not know about all those things I read in your blog; he just knew it was the only fun way to get somewhere.
Over the years he graduated from bike to power bike to automobile(s) and finally to marriage and a family. Biking went the way of so many things and became a distant memory.
After reading your Sept. 9 blog I don’t think this little boy will ever ride again. What is the point? It has to be pure fun or nothing. So, while I will support you as far as you want to go with YOUR biking, mine is going to remain a warm memory.
Love you, ride safe my son.
It’s all about the sweet, sweet suffering.