We all have our scarlet letters, our demons to exorcise. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, right? Well in addition to the big red “H” for heretic that I flaunted in yesterday’s post (I sure scared off the comments with that tangent, didn’t I?), I also have the big “F” for fat that becomes glaringly obvious every time the race course heads uphill. It’s so obvious that I don’t actually have to wear a letter—people know it’s there when they see my butt. Does my butt make these bike shorts look big?
I’ve mentioned in the last couple weeks, twice actually, my efforts to reduce my weight for bicycle racing. I’ve gone to bed hungry pretty much every night for the last month and am down all of about a pound. In fairness, that pound puts me within a really satisfying bowel movement of where I was when I raced Leadville last year, but I think I need to shed at least seven more to be in the mix as a Cat. 3 at this year’s Tour DAY Park City.
A really friendly colleague who left these in the break room is not helping.
I took a picture but did not partake. Someone hurry and go eat those things. I would take them down to Temple Square to give to the homeless people, but I know myself well enough to know that they wouldn’t all make it there. And that would sort of defeat the purpose.
BTW, donuts are made with yeast. At least some of them are. If you didn’t go to Watcher’s blog and read my half-baked theory about yeast being critical for human evolution, go check out part 1 and part 2 of everything I didn’t know about yeast until last week.
Also, huge props to teammate Mike H. who soloed to victory at last night’s inaugural DMV crit. Evidently my brother took second but failed to mention it—I only just found out looking for Mike’s name in the results. My biggest competition this weekend, and perhaps all season, is going to come from my own team, methinks.