Oh weekend. How do you fly by so quickly?
Friday night we went to Chili’s for dinner and then saw “This Means War” with the In-Laws. Dinner was ok…I suppose. I somehow accepted having a whiskey and diet and then also agreed to doing a shot of Jagger before we left for the movie. Even the bar tender judged us for doing shots at what was it? Oh, 6:30pm. All in all, my calories were still spot on for the day. Diaster averted.
Saturday morning I biked at Stone Mountain Park while my husband ran…. This was a clusterfuck. I’d been having a few bike issues on and off. I attributed them to 50% user error and 50% bike error, though in all reality, I’m sure the numbers were much different. Stone Mountain is a bitch of a bike. Rolling hills, long hills, steep hills, etc. It’s horrific. Anyhow, here I am, big ass and all on my bike, climbing the first hill. You are strong. You can do it. Don’t quit now. And I dont. I climb my first hill successfully. I’m panting, near death and see the next hill and start the climb. CLUNK CLINK CLACK My gears, my fucking gears. I hop off mid hill to get a peak and what’s happening and this guy wizzes past me yelling, “Don’t quit now! Hop on and finish the hill! There’s a big decline after this one!” I have a mixture of emotions and dont know if I should be flattered or outraged.
- Fuck yeah, man! I’m with you! Let me hop back on and keep going! I can do this! Thanks for the motiviation!
- But Dude, did you assume that I was off my bike and walking it because I’m fat and just needed the motivation? How judgy is that?
- Fuck. My gears…
I hop back on and press through my gears refusing to change. I climb a couple of more hills and then I literally cannot rotate. I hop off, again, hoping the dude hasnt lapped me and yells out to stop quitting. My chain has completely come off. I comtemplate two options, wait for my husband to catch up to me since he’s running and have him fix it or try and figure it out myself. I look down at my french tips, sigh and start trying to work on my chain. Sure, this may be simple for some people, but I have never done any of this shit on my own. My husband always fixes my bike issues. 10 minutes later I think I may have the chain back on and decide to walk up the hill to watch it rotate. All seems good. I hope on and make it down the hill. Great! I’m golden! Let me finish the next 3 miles! Negative. The chain comes off again and I’m stuck inbetween gears. I end up riding down and walking up every hill for the next 2 miles. I was infuriated.
I ultimately ended up taking my bike to our local shop and the guy said my chain was broken (HAHA! BIKE ERROR!) and I probably broke it. (Well, fuck.) He talked to me about the gears and things NOT to do. Apparently I should never be in 7 & 1. I should lean towards 5 & 3. My legs and hands are bruised from attempting to fix my bike.
The hardest part about my bike debachale was that I had planned on lapping the mountain twice. Something I’ve never done before. My body has gotten stronger and I could have done it this time, but instead of me holding myself back, a stupid bike was. I racked my bike and when my husband got done we got in the car. I looked at him will tears in my eyes and he just rubbed my back and told me he believed in me and loved me and knew that I could do it too. That was just what I needed.
And then Saturday night I started feeling rather crappy. Just a sore throat, so I decided to tough it out. Went to karaoke with some friends and sand my heart out with Disney and Musical show tunes. Talk about amazing. Again, I fell back into my whiskey and diet trap! Sneaky sneaky! I did however manage to eat the “Drive through diet” version of Taco Bell. Who am I becoming? Taco Bell use to be my fat girl camp. It was a moment of pride and happiness and slight disgust.
Sunday it hit me. I don’t handle being sick very well. I go from strong and capable to weak and feeble. I’m a pathetic blabbering baby like mess. It’s terrible. Fortunately, my husband is a fantastic man and takes very good care of me. I climbed into the bath where I proceeded to read the entire Hunger Games. (Amazing. Read it.) My husband made me a bowl of soup and it didnt taste good, so I ate the pasta he made for himself. When I am sick I crave carbs. It’s terrible and out of control. I ate a bowl of pasta with butter and parmesan cheese. And it didnt even taste that good. My husband took a nap with me and then for dinner, I made myself a cheese quesadilla with sour cream and salsa. A terrible calorie day; over by 500. What I am learning though is forgiveness. One day isn’t the end of the world. Tomorrow is a new day. My husb
YES! Carbs and cheese! Can’t get enough of them when I’m sick. Don’t push yourself these next few days, so you’re well enough to tackle the mountain trail again next weekend.