As I turned onto the final straight before the final climb of an all bike day here's what I spied glittering in the gutter:
I swear to all that is good and sickly sweet, I almost stopped, picked it up, and scoffed the fucker there and then. I'm pretty sure it was unopened. And if it wasn't? So fucking what, it's been thirteen days since I last tasted chocolate and yet somehow I am still not 67 kilos. I didn't stop and I now sit in a puddle of sweat and regret.
We shall speak again of my manorexia, but lest you get too excited, here's what I did today:
Warmed up for the 7am LT interval spin with a fast Rosie hammer through town. Clock says it's 10.77k. It took me a shitty 27 something minutes. Into a wind and without a warm up is the excuse.
The way home is apparently only 10.51 and it took around the same despite my being constantly forced to stop by weird speeding hunks of metal piloted by fat lazy buckets of blubber. Here's an idea for a Green Party initiative: bicycles (no, electric bikes do not fucking count) always have right of way. Always. Even when they've just done a drive by macing on some cunt in an Audi. Especially when they've just done a drive by macing on some cunt in an Audi.
Repeated in the evening except with Jesus Killer the fixie and an extra 15 minutes of intervals. Hammered on the commute when the opportunity presented itself. My rough estimate for the day comes in at 77k, a good chunk of it tough. I'll take my fucking creme egg now, thank you.
I swear to all that is good and sickly sweet, I almost stopped, picked it up, and scoffed the fucker there and then. I'm pretty sure it was unopened. And if it wasn't? So fucking what, it's been thirteen days since I last tasted chocolate and yet somehow I am still not 67 kilos. I didn't stop and I now sit in a puddle of sweat and regret.
We shall speak again of my manorexia, but lest you get too excited, here's what I did today:
Warmed up for the 7am LT interval spin with a fast Rosie hammer through town. Clock says it's 10.77k. It took me a shitty 27 something minutes. Into a wind and without a warm up is the excuse.
The way home is apparently only 10.51 and it took around the same despite my being constantly forced to stop by weird speeding hunks of metal piloted by fat lazy buckets of blubber. Here's an idea for a Green Party initiative: bicycles (no, electric bikes do not fucking count) always have right of way. Always. Even when they've just done a drive by macing on some cunt in an Audi. Especially when they've just done a drive by macing on some cunt in an Audi.
Repeated in the evening except with Jesus Killer the fixie and an extra 15 minutes of intervals. Hammered on the commute when the opportunity presented itself. My rough estimate for the day comes in at 77k, a good chunk of it tough. I'll take my fucking creme egg now, thank you.
6 comments:
I don't wish to alarm you, but I heard a news bulletin today of a lost Cadbury's egg, which not only held within its wrapper an invitation to the fabled Wolly Winka Chocolate factory, but also a small vial of elixir at its core.
And lastly, I believe Beyonce's home phone number was scrawled into the inner surface, along with a list of her likes and dislikes that you could use to your advantage.
Cock. My elixir just ran out.
As did Beyonce, in embarrassment and disgust. She liked it you see, so she put a ring on it, and now it's gone all green.
I have discovered Blueberry Puffs from M&S. I am CONVINCED the make me run faster.
Because they give you fruity puff? With a name like that, they surely couldn't slow you down.
FMC has the right idea. I myself gorged on chocolate-chip cookies, popsicles, and cupcakes for a week and managed to lose 2lbs--without working out, and while heavily pregnant. Don't let another gutter-egg opportunity pass you by.
I just bought two beers. See? I'm out of control.
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