’tis revolution time again.
And a grim time was had last week. There were 3 consecutive days of rain (3-4 inches each day plus wind averaging 20mph with gusts over 40mph.) I managed to ride the first day but I feared being blown into the path of a car and gave up after about half an hour. So the weekly tally was 182km (113mi). Food has become my ally. I only had one day where the junk called out my name loud enough to be heard over the singing of the recently exercised muscles. 17 points in the revolution tally and a loss of 0.2kg (0.4lb). I am slightly behind my 1kg per week target but not far and a loss is a loss.
And now back to the regular program.
I got tagged by Casey over at photos and rambling.
The rules are to post 5 strange things about yourself.
5. Ever since I lost the battle of the bulge people who guess my weight always guess around 30kg (66lb) light. 10, maybe 15 of that is good manners, the other 15 odd is just my bizarre (in a good way) physique.
4. I shave my legs. I raced bicycles competitively from 1982 to 1990, although with much less frequency after the ambulance ride. Bike racers shave their legs. It’s a fact of nature. I stopped competing around the time I met my wife. She actually threatened to leave me if I stopped shaving my legs. I have thanked her a thousand times over – every time I go for a ride and feel comfortable and clean.
3. I am the man of the house. I choose to stamp my authority on the household by doing the laundry and dishes. (Maybe this one is linked to #4, I must remember to ask Dr Freud if I ever meet him)
2. I am 100% a dog man. I tolerate cats purely out of respect for the owner’s freedom of choice. I know this is probably a hotter topic than politics and religion combined. Cats don’t sit, stay or heel. They roam around like they own the place. There are no native felines in Australia so they are not a natural part of the food chain in my country and they therefore possess an unfair advantage over the native fauna. Cats are useful in one situation only… if you own 4 crab pots and a chain saw.
Number one scares the hell out of me every time I think about it.
1. When I was 20 I got beaten up outside a nightclub. Not the first time, but it could have been the last. Three days later the police found the body of the other person he beat up that night. He’s out on parole so I’m not naming names.
I tag… no-one. Chain letters stop with me. I have never received any bad luck from this course of action, possibly due to my association with Rocky. I have never met him in person, but he does possess a streak of bad luck which could only be fuelled by an army of chain-mail-breakers like me.
If you enjoyed this, play along. If not, no harm done. I broke the chain by not explicitly nominating you so it’s all on me (and Rocky).