The Metabolic Safety Net

Vzzzzzzzzzzt!

"If that's anyone other than the Pizza Sub and Chocolate Sundae delivery fairy, you can fuck right off," I muttered. I was sweaty, and bitchy, and pedaling.
This was last week some time. The sweat blurred my vision, and I felt hopelessly out of practice at biking, despite having a heavy exercise-day.

Vzzzzzzzzzzt!
My phone went off again.
"Seriously, have food or fuck off," I muttered, but then I sighed, and picked it up.
It was Wendy.


Wendy's a pal of mine from over a decade ago. She's one of those apallingly fit people who actively enjoy the business of exercising till she drops, whippet-thin and serious about her fitness and her work and her love, and funny as Hell about everything else.
"Hey Honey" said her text. "Whatcha doin'?" said the second.
"Goddamnsonofabitch bikin'" I replied.
Vzzzzzzzzzzt!
"Y'know," she said, "you don't have to exercise every day, right?"
I stopped pedalling.
"What the Hell?" I asked, pushing against the pedals again, and wincing.
Vzzzzzzzzzzt!
"It's the metabolic safety net, innit?"
I stopped pedalling again.
"I say again...what the Hell?"
The bike told me I had shedloads of miles left to go. I whinged, and pushed on.
This time it took a few painful minutes, then
Vzzzzzzzzzzt!
"Did you have a metabolism when you started this? No you didn't. But now you're a few stone in, your metabolism's probably woken up. It kinda 'wants' to take care of you, to help digest all the food. You don't need to exercise madly every day, your metabolism'll take care of you..."

This was pretty much a trumpets-from-on-high moment. A Ten Commandments moments. A surely-that-can't-be-right moment. Certainly it didn't stope me biking at the time.

In fact, I only mention it at all because today, above all, I'm relying on the Metabolic Safety Net. Been a day of working, and visiting the folks and my brother while he's here. Went back to the restaurant from last night, and had a less-wise dinner than yesterday. Have done abbbbbsolutely nothing in the way of exercise - hence the reliance on the safety net. And a vaguely desperate hope that Wendy wasn't talking out of her ass.

Blood this morning was 5.2. So yay. Maybe the net has something to it after all...