Torture - Day 1

Right now I am not having warm fuzzy thoughts about my Pop. First thing he told me I had to do to train was ride my bike for an hour every other day. WHAT have I gotten myself into?

Good intentions, really. BS & I were all happy to make plans to ride when I got home from work tonight. Too bad. A big ol' thunderstorm had other ideas, so I had to content myself to ride the exercise bike whilst watching George Clooney's pretty face in a DVD (although it isn't so pretty in this view...

Normally it is much prettier.



After 10 minutes I was cursing my ancestors. After a half hour I felt my butt go numb. "Colorful metaphors" (5 points for the reference) rolled off my tongue like water. I creeped out BS by mentioning that perspiration was rolling down my crevasses. It's always fun to creep out your kids by mentioning your privates. The air immediately surrounding me was redolent with.... uh..... hard work and enthusiasm. I love doing this, really.


My instrument of torture. I need a better seat.

BS wanted to put in some time on the torture device as well, as he has his own reasons for wanting to buff up, but one minute later he quit and whined about the pedals being too small. Pansy.

I want some cake.