HTFU

I’ve adopted cycling saying as my mantra, HTFU. I even have it posted on my desk.

It is a cycling saying, that stands for “Harden The F#©% Up”. In cycling, you say it to the guy at the back of the pack complaining (this climb is too steep, you guys are going too fast, I just coughed up something that looks like my spleen, etc…) or the guy who is making excuses (it’s too hot out, it’s too cold out, I’m getting married in a half an hour, etc…).

Yesterday I said HTFU to myself. I had gotten home late (I had been sick Monday and Tuesday with the Flu (I didn’t say HTFU for that) and had to catch up at work). By the time I got home, I was making excuses; it’s raining (and when it stopped), I need to fix my phone (and when I had fixed it), I’m hungry, it’s cold, it’s late, etc…any excuse, or combination of them would do. But, sometime around 8:30pm, I told myself to “Harden The F#©% Up”, and I threw on my running gear and went for a run.

So for all of you sitting around and reading this blog, HTFU. Go out and do something.

No More Procrastination

Last week I had a meeting in Tampa; Tuesday and Wednesday. I had decided to drive. This way I could take a day of vacation and drive over to the east coast and visit my mom. Even though I was working, or on vacation; I decided to stop procrastinating so much, and start getting in better shape (more oval and less round).

The week began with a drive to Tampa on Monday. The morning was full of dropping the dog at the vet, setting off bug bombs at the house and meeting my friend for breakfast (we caravanned down to Tampa). By the time we got to the hotel and had a bite to eat, 24 was on. So Monday was a wash (OK, I procrastinated a little).

Tuesday and Wednesday I woke up in the morning and ran 2 ¼ miles each morning. (HA! Procrastination, I laugh in your general direction.)

On Thursday, I spent most of the day with my family. My mom and I had lunch with my aunt. This left me with very little time, but I was able to squeak in a short hike at the Savanna Preserve State Park.


On Friday, I went mountain biking. I know what you’re thinking, “Mountain biking in Florida, isn’t that an oxymoron?”, and the answer is yes. But, I rode the Ft. Pierce MTB trail, and it was sweet. I did start off in the wrong direction, riding through sugar sand on an ATV trail, but a couple of other mountain bikers pointed me in the right direction. I did about 5 miles of twisty single-track. (Only 1 wreck.)



On Saturday, I went back to the Savanna Preserve State Park for some kayaking. The park has guided tours of the marsh for $10 (that included the rental). The tour guide took us around, telling us about the different wildlife and plants (we didn’t see any alligators (it was too cold), but I did get to see a bald eagle fly overhead). The tour took about 3 hours, with the last hour going against the wind. It was a good work-out.



On Sunday, I drove back home. It took all day (a very, very, very long day).

On Monday, I recovered from the drive (slept) and picked up Allie from the vet (OK, I procrastinated a little more).

On Tuesday, I walked Allie in the morning, and rode 5 miles on my bike during lunch. (Some of you may be wondering why I only did 5 miles, instead of my usual. I will tell you. It was because it was cold. I was getting an ice cream headache without the pleasure of eating ice cream.) On the way home that night, I stopped and bought a under the helmet beanie. I was not going to let the cold beat me.

On Wednesday, I walked Allie in the morning, and ran (trudged) 4.5 miles. I was stupid on the run. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, and I didn’t bring a snack with me. About a 1 ½ miles in I started feeling weak. By the time I finished the run, I was spent. (Just a note, the beanie worked well.)

Today I walked, but that’s it. I am doing a double today, so tomorrow when I’m off, I might go mountain biking.

I am a fat guy

I am a fat guy. I know this. I don’t say it to here people say things like; “No, you’re just big boned”, or “you don’t look fat, you look healthy”. I state that I’m fat, because I’m fat. I have proof. I bought a scale that measures your fat content.

Even though you may be fat, sometimes it doesn’t concern you. You read the numbers on the scale and you think of them as just numbers; you see pictures of yourself and you say you’re just big, you think about how much you exercise; you run a couple of times a week, you cycle during lunch, and you’re always going hiking.

Nothing brings you back to the fact that you’re a big fat guy as a hotel bathroom. At home, my bathroom has a small mirror in it. I only use the full length mirror when I’m dressed. Because I don’t ever see myself in my au-natural fatness, I sometimes forget how fat I am. But, seeing myself in the mirror of the hotel has made me think that I need to stop procrastinating (I’m a procrastinator), and get in shape.

Maybe tomorrow.

Life is Conspiring to Keep Me Fat.

Life is conspiring to keep me fat. It has nothing to do with eating a whole bag of Hershey kisses. If it does have something to do with eating a whole bag of Hershey kisses then I blame life for conspiring to make me eat those kisses.

Why do I think life is conspiring to keep me fat? Well, I only rode my bike one day last week, and I didn’t run at all. The week started off fine:

On Monday I did three laps of my lunch loop (7.5 miles).

On Tuesday I had lunch with my friend, John, and his two sons. I always have to go with him when his kids are with him. His sons are 14 and 4. The 4 year old is one of the cutest little boys you will ever meet, but the true entertainment is the 14 year old. He is a true “know-it-all” teenager, and he knows how to push his dad’s buttons. All I have to do is sit back and watch the floor show. Today’s show was about something my friend made for his van (for camping) (my friend is all about practicality and cost, and his son is about appearance (as most teenagers are)).

On Wednesday I didn’t ride during lunch, so I left work a little early to hit the Silver Comet Trail. On the way to the trail I stopped for gas, and I found a nail in one of my tires. Kaufmann Tire is close to the trailhead, so I stopped in to get my tire patched. Unfortunately there was a nail in the inside sidewall also. I ended up having to replace the tire (they only had one in stock, so I ordered the other one for Friday). By the time they finished, it was too late to go for a ride.

On Thursday I went for a hike. 10 friends and 10 dogs (I borrowed my sisters dog, Gretzky) hiked the white trail at Sweetwater Creek State Park. It was a fun outing, and life didn’t conspire against me, but that wasn’t going to last.

On Friday I was going to ride the Silver Comet Trail while I was getting my other tire. It rained, and rained. So instead of burning some calories, I went to Jim N Nicks for BBQ, a movie with popcorn, and 5 Guy’s Burgers for a burger and fries.

On Saturday I was planning a hike with my sister. She couldn’t make it to the New Year hike, so she, Gretzky and I were going to do one on Saturday. But, the weather was crappy. It had been raining on and off for over a day, and it didn’t look like it was going to let up. Our hike was rained out.

On Sunday it was still crappy.

The next Monday it was crappy all day, except at lunch. The sun broke through for a little while, and the temperature felt like spring. I watched as the runners from work, left for there lunch time jog, and the other bike riders from work left for a spin, but I was working with a vendor. No lunch time ride for me.

Today is also crappy. Crappy, crappy, crappy.

Life’s a bitch, and then you pack on the pounds.

I Am Not an Athlete

I am not an athlete. I run (trudge); I am not a runner. I ride a bike; I am not a cyclist. How can you tell that I’m not an athlete? That’s easy, I don’t know any stats. Although I wear the Dick Tracy watch, and it tracks all kind of data, I basically just know how far I went. I don’t track my pace, my time in heart rate zones, or any other of the other stats that my watch records.

When you tell an athlete you went for a ride during lunch, they ask all kinds of questions. What is your VO2Max? What is your time splits? What grade were the climbs? Etc… The only answer I can think of giving them is Cuba (once playing trivia pursuit I guessed Cuba, and it was correct; so Cuba has become my default answer).

Athletes need stats to fool themselves into thinking they’re doing something special. All I need is not to stroke out, because I am not an athlete.