I slowly step up into the room. The sign on the door marked confessional catches my glance, and for a minute a deep sense of despair tears through my body like the first drop on a megadeath roller coaster ride. What can I do, there is the computer right there, and beyond those few simple cables are a billion plugged in people I'm sure just sitting there ready to read my words. Then common sense sets in and the despair diminishes slowly. Seriously, what are we talking here anyway? Five, maybe ten people still reading this blog? It can safely be called a private journal by this point. I sit down and begin to type.
We have a mixed bag of results this time. I think that in the last week, I did actually get the Wii fit board on the floor. Twice possibly, when the goal was daily. So that was not as great as I had hoped. On the other side, I have gotten the bike out of mothballs and have started to ride. Two whole days in a row.
Here is how I know the bike thing has legs. I bought a speedometer/odometer for it and put it on the bike. Normally, a quickly passing fad doesn't get me to do extra things like get out tools to attach parts. So that's a good sign. On the other hand, one of these exercise fads have never really lasted more than two months. Remember also that the Tour de France had just ended a week ago, so I am still all high on the Lance comeback thing. Eventually that wave will diminish and I'll have forgotten why I am going out and torturing myself like this.
Let's just talk about the two rides. My neighborhood has a nice little closed in two block area. I found that once around it is almost a mile. ONE mile, with a slight incline going one way leaving of course a nice coast going back around the other way. ONE mile. You know the Tour de France is like over a hundred miles a day and they go up mountains? I went TWO whole miles on a tiny hill gradual slant. After that I staggered into the house and wondered who had stolen the air and asked why my legs no longer allowed me to move myself from the couch to the kitchen. I worried that the next day I wouldn't be able to move.
Good news though, I got up the next day and was only slightly sore. After finding out that I had again gained weight, I bought the odometer, put it on and rode again. The odometer is not just something to measure distance, it reminds me of high school, before I could drive, when I practically lived on my bike. Seriously, summers were spent roaming the streets of tiny town, Wisconsin on my bike, cruising out to my grandpas house in the next town on my bike, delivering newspapers on my bike, exploring the country roads on my bike... You get the idea. I put an odometer on that bike and just loved watching the miles click by. I though that memory might sustain this little excursion in diet and exercise. Who knows, but its worth the couple of bucks for the thing to try. Right?
So, that's where I am; losing the weight battle, but hopefully planning an awesome full frontal attack on it that could overcome the problem in the long run. Keep holding out hope for me.