Sunday 3 April 2011

Resistance. Useless...Really?

Since starting this bizarre, apparently worthwhile project, I've been riding my bike and getting spectacularly nowhere in the manner prescribed by my doctor...the nice man who wanted to slice me open and take out half my stomach.

Am I coming off bitter at all?

Annyway, the point is, I've been doing as I was told - which is to pedal my humungoid ass off for long distances but with the resistance of a marshmallow-ball. After it's been toasted. For about an hour.

But no more, dammit.

Having done a month of this happy, hippie freewheeling stuff, I've turned up my dial a whole whopping notch.

Can I just say Ow and get a week's whinging at something I've done to myself over with in a single moment?
This whole 'actual resistance' thing hurts like a sonofabitch, but the calorie-burn counter goes up in leaps and bounds by comparison. So it's weird - it's practically encouraging masochism, because it's productive pain with a horrible self-satisfied grin at the end, and a disgusting burn of 'look at me, I'm suffering for my weightloss' gloat-ation (Whaddaya want from me, it's Sunday night and my mental thesaurus is offline) that fuels me on to furtherr nauseating successes...I'm hoping.

So this is me launching my own resistance movement.If watching V has taught me anything, it's got to be a good thing. Now excuse me, while I get sweaty and gloaty and bitter all over again.

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