About three times a week, four if I'm not completely worthless, my co-worker and I put in 20 miles of pedaling through dry desert air and car fumes paradise. It's neat. After 25 minutes of exercising in this stuff your tongue starts to swell like one of those crazy foam animal capsules.
Just as my tongue was starting to swell into an elephant shape I came to a sad realization, I haven't been pushing it hard enough. Lance Armstrong I'm not. I decided it was a good idea to have a little pedal off against my co-worker Hinzy. You could say I'm at a distinct disadvantage riding a mountain bike versus his road bike, but that shouldn't be an excuse.
We raced up one of the lovely smog hills here and I nearly spit out a lu
It took 3 miles to start breathing normal again and get back into a rhythm. I'd like to blame my pathetic defeat on the smog / mountain bike but in reality it was because my legs got caught on my skirt at the top of the hill. Hinzy commented, "You gonna cough up one of your ovaries." It's never cool for somebody to call out your manhood, especially a co-worker. I decided I better man up and pretend my heart and lungs were still somewhere in my chest and not rolling down the hill screaming mercy.
Moral of the story, I'm still not in shape and I need to get over the mental aspect telling me I can't go faster and I can't push up the hill in top gear. There's no point going 20 miles if you aren't pushing hard for at least 15 of them. It's time to man up. Before I know it I'll be 40. And I think the 40-year-old version of me would kick my ass for not trying harder. I've only got one more year of the 20s, it's time to ditch the ugly body for a beach body.
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