Morning weigh-in: 185#, 15% BF (WTF?)
So I went to the gym last night, ate a healthy dinner, and I gained a pound... Meantime, I'm rethinking my New Year's Resolutions, especially #3 because it's been a slightly less-than-satisfactory experiment.
Riding tonight, towpath.
Morning weigh-in: 184#, 9% BF
I was pretty stoked the other night that I didn't skimp on the riding, but got out even if just for a set of sprints. Last night was another story... I was supposed to do a towpath ride before going over to Art's house, but blew it off in favor of web browsing. I made amends, sort of, by walking to his house, and luckily they were already out of beer -- though not snacks, oh well. I paid my respects, hung out & BS'ed for a bit, caught some "South Park" and headed home. The clocks there all seemed to be ahead by an hour, so I was surprised that when I did get home, it was only 11:00.
Anyway, tonight is the gym, and then some more sprints. I like them, short & sweet and it's nice the way they sneak up on you, build to exhaustion.
Morning weigh-in: 184.5#, 15% BF
The wake for Art & Andrew's dad was last night. Nice enough, as these things go: lotsa people there and a nice (as these things go) "vigil" service. After that I went home and did a quickie "singlespeed standing sprints" workout on the streets downtown, then met those guys at WB -- I know I'm trying to avoid going out, but I was sort of obligated in this case; tonight is a final get-together (after the funeral, which I'm not doing) and then I should be free to desocialize for a bit. And I have been watching the caloric input while out...
Dinner last night was tuna & wilted greens over fettuccine, tonight is leftover tuna & wilted greens, followed by a towpath ride and the visit to Art's. It's been pretty cold out, on the very cusp of not riding for me (low teens), but the weather should moderate next week.
Morning weigh-in: 185#, 15% BF (still carrying some o' that weekend chili)
...say it like "Absolom! Absolom!"
Trapped, vol 1: Someone I know -- acquaintance, definitely not a friend -- went on an extended vacation through Eurasia, essentially for the whole month of January. No itinerary, just a flight into St Petersburg and flight out of Beijing, with the intention of get to Moscow and taking the Trans-Mongolian Express across Siberia to Ulan Bator, then on into China. Interesting, no? Well, I ran into him at the coffee shop on Saturday, and he told me a lot about his trip, and it was in fact interesting but he started to dwell, loudly and at length, on his sexual experiences (or what he thought might have been sexual experiences, the guy is as weird as his reputation) along the way. This is in a place run by two high school girls, with a fairly respectable clientele -- no one who really needed to hear any of that -- and I couldn't shut him up, or even escape. Someone else actually said something to him -- to us -- about his conversation. I was so mortified...
Chilibowl Sunday: The Superbowl of Chili was a bit of a disappointment. The chili event itself was great, but before and after didn't quite work out the way I wanted: no one wanted to do the pre-ride (granted it was cold, but that's not why), then things seemed to end a little early. That's what happens when you try to institutionalize a one-shot funtime I guess. Next year I'm just going to go with the flow. On the bright side, I was way more lucid by the end of the day.
Trapped, vol 2: My plan has been to buckle down after last weekend, diet- and alcohol-wise, so I've been treating the past few as "last hurrah" weekends: out a little later than usual, getting involved in the everybody-buying-each-other-drinks scene, etc. Well Imbolc Weekend is now behind us and it's time to prepare for Spring, but last night was the Mug Club dinner, and I'm eating & minding my own business when the bartender puts a shot in front of me, "here, from Scott." Well, Tullamore Dew and it's the Code of the West (not to mention conspicuous consumption/leisure) in there, so I had to do it, but gave bartender Tara the "ixnay on the ots-shay" high sign, scrammed outta there a little early...
Before dinner last night I went to yoga; tonight I'm skipping yoga, going to the wake for Art & Andrew's dad. Curran-Finnegan Funeral Home, right around the block from me.
Reading: Still deep into Against the Day, which is getting more interesting again. We're now hanging in Belgium, a few years before WWI, with a bunch of refugees from "the Quaternion Wars" and ghosts from the real war just ahead.
