Hill Workouts and Hump Day Ha-Ha’s

R.O.D.

Well, helloooooo my babies! I have missed all of your lovely eyes reading about my inner workings! The truth is, as much as I love writing this here ‘lil blog, I may sometimes have to take a brief hiatus to focus my writing efforts on my other freelance positions (cue epic groans of apathetic understanding). Nobody wants to see me unable to pay the bills and thereby end up on the street corner in a refrigerator box. Unless of course this corner happens to be somewhere in Bora Bora in which case, sign me up! But please at least pay for the postage for my box & I to safely make it there, OK?

As I mentioned in my previous post, Mother Nature has certainly gone off her meds, leaving Boston cast in a glorious, 70-degree heat wave of sun-shining goodness. Naturally, I took full advantage of this summer-esque weather in March to complete the following workouts:

Monday: I’m back on my bike! Yep, the daily grind has once again become much more enjoyable as I no longer duke it out with the Massholios from behind the wheel of my aging Mitsubishi. Now I get to go head-to-head with them on my bicycle! There’s nothing I love more than having some idiot beep at me while I’m in the BIKE LANE, drive so close that their mirror grazes my elbow, and then watch as they inevitably end up stuck in a long line of Route 60 traffic that’s going nowhere. As I blow by them, I sometimes wave, but I always smile and think to myself, “Up yours, @$$h01e!”   (22 miles for the day; 11 there, 11 home)

Tuesday: Fueled by a breakfast of Goldfish crackers and V8, I again set off for a glorious bike commute. Following my ride home and another round of Goldfish, I set out for my first hill session of the season. For any of my fellow Bostonians, I encourage you to come over and experience the thigh-burning extravaganza of the Medford hills. I can promise you that they kick Summit Ave’s arse any day (for my Girard readers, they easily kick Drury Hill’s arse, too).  While the workout wasn’t comprised of too many miles, it made up for it by completely exhausting all of my leg muscles. With each loop (once up, once down, back up, back down with about .5 miles in between), I slowly felt all semblance of feeling drain from my legs. 45-minutes later, I limped up the front steps deliriously tired but elated. (22 miles on the bike; 1.5-mile run for hill warmup/cooldown , 4 x 0.5-mile hill repeats)

Today: Another round of biking, but a somewhat easier run will follow my return home. I’m gearing up for 4-5 miles so we’ll see what happens. Hopefully, I can resist the urge to inhale yet another bag of Goldfish crackers. Must.stop.buying.them.but.damn.they.are.so.amazing.  (22 miles on the bike; 4 miles running)

M.O.D.

I’ve decided to add a bit of structure to my Wednesday musings, thereby dubbing them the “Hump Day Ha-Ha’s” because there’s nothing I love more than a good laugh in the middle of a long work week.  The content will vary but will most likely be based in pictures as I love to come up with captions for ridiculous photos. Here’s this week’s edition:

Guy Dancing

When you said "Low Maintenance," I didn't think you meant that low! You've got more hair under your arms than my father has on his head!

Wedding Picture

Hee, haw! Ride'Em, cowboy! Our future Christmas card cover...

Bitch-Slappin' Babies

Bitch! I'll teach you for lookin' at my man!

Funny Man on Street

When I walk in the spot, yeah this is what I see, OK. Everybody stops and staring at me I got passion in my pants and I ain't afraid to show it, show it, show it, show it... I'm sexy and I know it... Ay! I'm sexy and I know it....

Heeeyyyyy

Just wanted to say, "HeeeeEEEEeeeeyyYYYyyy"




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One thought on “Hill Workouts and Hump Day Ha-Ha’s

  1. I believe that fellow rockin’ the cowboy hat is recently deceased Leslie Cochran from my hometown of Austin, TX. He was always keeping it weird – gold lame thong, bikini top and stilletos down on 6th street. Even ran for mayor several times and got a respectable number of votes. Here’s a story from the FB news story page after his death. Apologies in advance if anyone’s offended, but I don’t think he cared.

    “I remember one day at Bouldin Creek, I was having Coffee with my mother when Leslie plopped down next to her and sweetly warned that when Jesus comes, remember to spit and not swallow. My mother turned a bright shade of red and I nearly spit out my drink but neither of us could help laughing. He could turn your whole day around with a few choice words. He was an effortless champion of ‘weird’ and he will be missed.”

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