I’ve been cycling now for about 20 years, since meeting Jane and Jane’s kids. Not that Matt and Andrew were into cycling or anything, but when they went to Boy Scout camp at Philmont they phoned home not because they were homesick, but to get the current Tour de France results. I rode low-level recreationally for a while. But about seven years ago I was checking my weight and doing the mathematical extrapolations when I realized that the trend line needed to go down, not up. So my cycling became much more intense, part of an active program to eat healthier foods and to exercise regularly. i rode outdoors in fair weather, and indoors in foul, on that exercise bike that I was given a couple or three years before the weight loss program started. And I lost about 45 pounds in a year and a half. Nothing fancy, but fundamentally burning more calories than I took in. I still burn about two days of calories a week by exercising.
This year, though, my weight went up in the late fall/early winter as it always does, but has not come down as much in the spring. The seasonal oscillation has, in fact, resulted in successively higher weights for three years in a row. And now I am a good 5 pounds above where I would like to be (“should be”?). My cycling, still intense, is part of my life for many reasons, but weight control is one of them.
Partly my plight’s a result of circumstances. An extra week’s vacation on a cruise, six weeks of impassible trails, an extra “holiday” with feasting in honor of a spouse’s birthday, some visitors whose joyous and cherished presence nevertheless keep me off the bike–such things work against a nice steady decline of average weight as winter turns to spring.
I have about two weeks before another such hiatus, and it’s time to get serious. No more self-indulgence. I need to get into that food-hating mind-set that I found and embraced so fully for 18 months. Not there yet. Have to contact my inner anger, or resolve, or will. Feel the way Birthers feel about Obama, Tea Partiers feel about government, Fundamentalists feel about infidels, Sox fans feel about the Yankees: deep, primordial, intense, non-rational loathing. That should do it. Please pass the wine.
©Arnold J. Bradford, 2010.