I Blame the Olympics

Oh my God.

Actually, at this point, I am weirdly fine and kind of feel like I have done nothing. But let us pretend for a moment like it is twenty minutes ago.

***Wayne's World Flashback Noise***

Oh God, why. I just nearly died of heat exhaustion from biking six and a half miles in fifty-five minutes. Which is to say, slowly. Well, actually, most of the time I was going along at a pretty decent clip -- fourteen miles per hour or so, but then I decided to come home.

This was a mistake.

We live just over a mile from the Colorado River. As a result, our neighbourhood slopes down toward the river with a drop in elevation of about a hundred feet in about a mile and a quarter. To make matters even more exciting, there is a really steep hill right at the beginning of the climb into the neighbourhood, so as one might imagine, going to the river is fabulous and makes one feel like one is a complete idiot for not riding one's bike everywhere all the time. On the other hand, coming home makes one feel like a complete idiot for thinking that riding a bike this afternoon was a good idea.

One then, upon making it home at long last, lurches through one's living room, shouts "No time to explain!" at one's wife, and plunges into the shower in full biking kit.

/Flashback.

Yeah, so I was sort of dying while ago when I got home. In my defence, it WAS about ten thousand degrees outside. I mean, it IS ten thousand degrees outside. What is really weird, though, is that I feel perfectly fine now. I do not feel like my quads were burning or that I thought I was going to vomit at any moment.

I find this strange since my aerobic capacity at this point is roughly on par with that of a zombie with emphysema. I was exhausted at the end of that bike ride and thought I would never feel happiness again. Yet, here I am.

Why did I go out for a bike ride in the blistering heat? I blame the Olympics. More specifically, I blame those thrice-damned commercials. "Take a day off? I don't even take a morning off." "Greatness is not reserved for a chosen few." "Hey asshole, get out of the chair and do something because you are lazy."

Ok, that last one might not be real. Nonetheless, it was those things which inspired me to leave my comfy chair at five in the afternoon and go for a bike ride. The thing is, as much as I hated it at the end, I do not regret it now, and as I said earlier, I kind of actually feel like I did not do anything, so I guess that says a lot about my ability to recover.

In other news, though, I will definitely NOT be doing the triathlon at Labour Day. Once I can do twenty kilometers -- fourteen miles -- on the bike without feeling like I am going to die, then I will think about triathlons again.