schmalz’s log week 17

It’s been twenty-two days since I have stepped pedal outside on a bike. My indoor internment has now lasted long enough that I have gone through all the (Ferdie) Kübler-Ross stages of bike grief and loss. I have accepted the notion that I will be buried under ground in my basement for the foreseeable future. I cannot change this fact. It is the will of the Almighty that to become mighty I might need to be entombed for the rest of February. (That sentence is really fun if you read it our loud.)

I will say that it took quite a bit of work for me to arrive at this state of acceptance. Sure, I was in denial about how long the cold could last, and then I got angry. Well, those who know me, know that I am always a little bit angry—this is due to the existence of henley shirts, white-threaded contrast stitching on cycling shorts and the word “vacay”, I cannot stress enough how much I despise the term “vacay”. I eventually got over my anger at riding indoors (but I will see you in Hell, vacay!). There was some bargaining, mostly the amounted to bargaining with myself, as I would reward myself with alcohol for completing repulsive durations on the trainer.

This extra drunkenness led to extra depression, which was dispatched with extra alcohol. (That’s a sound coping strategy, no?) And I am now in my enlightened state of bike acceptance (but still despise henleys, contrast stitching and as always, vacay). I have calmed my mind to the point where I can ride 120 minutes on a trainer with minimal insanity. I still require some sort of entertainment to accomplish this, but perhaps with enough time and therapy alcohol, I will be able to stare ahead into space without any diversion whatsoever. It’s important to have goals.

And that is all I can possibly think to type about a week spent indoors riding a trainer, as typing about tedium is probably one of the most tedious things that you can possibly do. It’s getting so desperate that I may have to resort to posting photos of my meals, which is actually the most tedious thing you can do.