I was standing in the Costco parking lot in my T-shirt and jeans, absent-mindedly sipping on a generously iced Diet Coke, when my type-A alter-ego - that little voice that is always trying to nudge me into action - came waddling up beside me.
"What a waste," it said to me. "Look at the bright sun! The clear sky! The windsock hanging limp and motionless! Why aren't you out there taking advantage of that?"
"I promised my health-nut alter-ego that I wouldn't ride my bike today," I said. "My neck's still sore. I think I got whiplash when I crashed Thursday. See, I can't turn it to the left very far."
"Like taking a neck recovery day is a good excuse," it hissed. "You're only going to get a day like this once in an entire training cycle! You have to seize the day when it comes! It doesn't matter what you did yesterday or the day before for that matter!"
"You know, you're the reason my co-workers used to call me Gimpy McStiff," I said.
"But you'll finally be able to soak up some sun," it coaxed. "You're skin's looking pretty pasty these days. Although you should probably do something about those wind burnt cheeks. Haven't you ever heard of moisturizer?"
"If I actually take rest days," I said, "maybe someday I will look like a normal person again."
"I'm telling you, you're making a huge mistake," it said.
I took another sip of my Diet Coke. The cool liquid trickled beneath my strained neck muscles, releasing sweet shots of caffeine into my bloodstream, where it carried into the knots in my shoulders, the static numbness in the tips of my fingers, the fatigue in my quads, my calves, my toes. And we settled, relaxed, melted in the rare January sun.
"I could get used to this," I said.
So now I'm officially tapering. What will I do with my extra time?
I received this e-mail from my grandma today. She always has good ideas.
"I would make you eat whipped potatoes and plenty of gravy. Then an hour later I would make you eat chicken noodle soup with homemade noodles, topped off with I believe you like tin-roof sundae ice cream. Then an hour later, I would get you some pizza and milk. Not pepsi, MILK!"
I love my grandma.
So the ever-popular Fat Cyclist and I are both up for Bloggies. Good thing were are not up against each other. Still, it does seem like several bloggers in the cycling community are rallying for us, and that's nice to see. I have to admit, I would be fairly exuberant (like Fatty) if I won, but it's not very likely. I'm up against Sports blogs, some of which receive more hits per week than my blog has in its entire existence. But I figure it doesn't hurt to do an extra plug, because, unlike Fatty, I don't know how to put a big flashing banner ad in my sidebar. But just think, wouldn't it be cool if a wannabe-endurance-cycle-racing blog run by a woman whose only high school team was the debate team, and who - despite several attempts to educate herself - doesn't understand how the game of football is really played ... wouldn't it be cool if that blog was named "Best Sports Weblog 2007"? Just a thought. Vote early and vote often. Thank you.
Oh yeah ... Go Colts!