You’re all too kind.

 

Revolution Round 1.

 

Here’s how the week looked.  Fair.  Reasonable.  Adequate.  OK.  Nothing spectacular.  It started very well with a perfect score up to Wednesday.  4 days.  12 points.  Thursday morning I had booked myself an appointment with the blue sky and wide open road.  I was planning on a leisurely 70-90 kilometre (43-55 mile) ride. 

 

Alas, at 7:14am the phone rang.  It was my boss from the Post Office.  They were a man down.  Until I said yes.  Out of the cycling clothes and into the steel capped boots for a day parcel delivering fun.  Unfortunately in my enthusiasm to get to work I could not possibly have left the house less well prepared for a long day in the summer sun.  No food.  No water.  No sunscreen.  But hey, I had a wallet and a choice of 4 different brands of drive through for lunch.

 

So how’s that New Years Revolution looking?  No ride.  Junk for lunch.  And then I was in complete brain-fade when I got home.  Between 9pm and 11 pm I managed to forage around and devour somewhere in the vicinity of 1500 calories.  That makes Thursday a ZERO point day.

 

Friday, the ride was there.  The night binge was suppressed.  Working at a pizza shop is a struggle though.  At the end of a shift one of those greasy suckers just jumps right down your throat.  Junk food was a ZERO score.

 

Saturday went well.  So I got to the end of the first week with a score of 17 out of 21.  A weight loss of 2.0kg (4.4lb) and mileage of 189km (117mi).  Quite satisfactory considering the bike I’m riding was purchased in October 2001 and the computer on 31 December 2005 showed a total of 2886.4km (1792mi).  That’s 50 months at a truly fearsome average of 1.9km (1.2mi) per day.  Any wonder it feels like I’m starting from scratch.  I am.

 

What happens if I stumble?

 

That’s yet to be decided. 

 

In my last post I was looking for a special kind of evil.  A truly inspired level of nastiness.  What I got was some carefully thought out, but politely restrained responses.  Here’s what I think.  Everyone I know is nice.  Too nice.  Way too nice.  Don’t fret though folks, we have time.  As I’ve just finished covering, I don’t need to publicly flog myself this week.

 

The results were strangely skewed towards hair related punishments.  Some involved removal from various zones.  Some were suggesting growth of embarrassing fashions of yesteryear.

 

There were 2 nominations for who should decide the punishment.  MuMo was suggested with the endorsement “kind but sneaky”.  Dug was also put forward with a similarly glowing reference, “mean but decent”.  So Dug and MuMo, at your leisure, have a scan through the comments here and drop in a comment with what you would like to see happen to poor little old me.

 

It was a disappointing start to Week 2.

 

Just to give you all hope that I may stumble and have to go through with this nasty business, whatever it may be.

 

Sunday.  I planned on getting in 3 hours or so on the bike.  I forgot about the birthday party on Saturday night.  At my house.  Late to bed.  Late to rise.  Then a round of visits to the nearby relatives for all to congratulate Mr10 on his promotion to Mr11.

 

I jumped on the shiny machine at 2pm to rendezvous with the rest of the clan at mum’s house for dinner and birthday cake (a thin slice, I promise).  As I wheel down the driveway I saw, to the south and west, a sky blacker than the night.  And boiling.  Yet I ventured forth.  My plan was to ride past mum’s suburb and then do a familiar 55km (34mi) loop.  I was less than 10 minutes from home when the first drops hit me.  By the 20 minute mark I was soaked to the bone.  At about 25 minutes I turned onto the main road and into the fiercest wind I have felt for many years.  I was struggling to maintain 80 rpm in a 39×19.  And then the rain intensified.  It was a quite comfortable 24°C (75°F) but the blinding forced a decision to stay alive.  So today the ride was over after 46 minutes.  ZERO points for the ride.  But junk and night snacks are all good.  And quoting another fat man with a mullet, 2 out of 3 ain’t bad.

 

 

 

 

My permanent post script

No matter how meagre your existence may seem, if you are reading this you are in a position to be a hero to people who need heroes more than you could imagine.  Click here to help make a difference.