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