Itchy Scratchy Rant

Before I even start this, I want to say thanks to those of you who have been reading this blog and for the comments I have received. I knew I could coerce, beg and otherwise guilt my brother and at least one of my sisters into skimming it once in a while, but to have people voluntarily reading some posts -- wow.  Boggles the mind.  It's also nice to have so many people rooting for me to do this, and it has accomplished the most important goal -- giving me some accountability. 

I purposely started out with that little positive note because I am still feeling cranky about riding, blogging and fitness in general.  I have a LOT of complaints.  A lot.  In fact, I am just going to make a list here of everything that is plaguing me in the hopes that writing it all down will be sufficiently therapeutic to get it all off my chest and me off my butt and back onto the bike today.

So, the list, in no particular order:

1.  I hate morning people.  So why the heck am I awake and blogging at 6:37 AM?  I think it's the biking.  I seem to be sleeping less and less.  And I like sleep.

2.  I have about 20 mosquito bites from the other night's ride.  Mostly on my hips, butt and thighs, which isn't surprising, considering that 1) those are my juiciest, meatiest parts and 2) that's what is largely (no pun intended) exposed as I lean over my bike. 

3.  Those mosquito bites aren't especially in places I want to be seen scratching, and certainly not as I go about my professional and official day as Director of Cultural Arts and Events.  In no way is that art.  It is possibly an event, but not a pretty one.

4. I have only lost 10 of my 40 pounds (mostly in blood, clearly).  It just seems that between all the biking and the healthier eating, the weight should just be FALLING off, as if magic.  I mean seriously, it should be like, gee, there went another five pounds, imagine that!

5. So now I am having to slather on tons of 45+SPF sunscreen AND bug spray, which probably means that this whole health quest is just going to end with me having cancer or some kind of rare, exotic disease brought on by subcutaneous toxic poisoning.

6.  I have a crick in my neck.  And my calves are sore.  And my shoulders.  And my toes.

7. If the wind blows me over when it's just me and my bike, how am I ever going to ride with panier bags on the sides of the bike?  I'll be like a giant, bug-bitten, sunburned wind sail, tossed to and fro at every whim of Mother Nature.

8.  The panier bags are going to weigh about 40 pounds.  So I am losing 40 pounds (well, 30 now), just to put 40 pounds back on.  THAT MEANS I AM STILL GOING TO HAVE TO BASICALLY CARRY THIS SAME CARCASS UP ALL THOSE HILLS.

Egad.  I'm sitting here racking my brain and can't come up with any more.  Maybe I should have broken each of those down into points a, b, c and d so that they look more impressive. Eight is not actually as bad as I thought when I started out making the list.  (That is the beauty of lists... don't get me started on the functionality and psychological impact lists make in my life.  I love them.  More about that another time.)

Okay, enough.  Time to quit crying like a girl and get gritty again.  But thanks for letting me vent, blog.