It's not easy being hip

The third "winter event" in Charlotte triggered me to make some changes to my standard work garb. Yesterday I shod my feet in full lorica Sidi's hoping to stave off the intrusion of cold melt water to my happy wooled feet. I used to wear Sidi's all the time at work, and after just one day back in them I can't imagine why I ever chose to do so. Working in a land of bricked sidewalks, marble floors, and paved surfaces the Sidi's are way outta their element. Sure they feel great as my feet travel in circles attached to pedals, but every time my hard plastic soles make contact with the unforgiving man made surface below I can feel my vertebrae begin to fuse together and my fillings rattle loose. Not to mention all the incidents and embarrassments from doing the "Sidi slide" trying to cut a quick corner on a wet floor. Once I busted my ass so hard on the fine marble floors of the Federal Courthouse (in front of the US Marshals) that I had trouble walking for weeks. There were countless other times I went down trying to catch an elevator or make time in a building , but that was the only time I did it in front of a bunch of guys with guns.

"I find no humor in your current situation son. Please get off the floor before I shoot you."

About that trainer I mentioned yesterday...

Far be it from me to actually consider an organized training regime or anything else of that ilk. No, what I am trying to do is avoid having a total suckfest at my first race of the season in April. Since I'll be taking The Fajita to school at 8:50AM (while The Pie is in Haiti) I won't be able to get any early morning miles in before I head to work till March 26th (nine days before my first race). I don't necessarily have any high aspirations for the 6 Hours of Warrior Creek, other than to not suck, and at my current level of fitness I am fairly confident that suckiness is guaranteed.

Learning hairdos and don'ts from The Fajita in preparation for my Mr Mom role.

So here's the plan: I get home from work, feed the children, help with homework (Fajita's, not mine), bathe the smaller of the two children, spend some time with the children (large and small), and then sit on the trainer and watch TV until some unprescribed amount of time passes, take a shower, and go to bed. I'm sure I'll do some sort of occasional interval work at some heart rate (to be gauged by blurriness of vision) with some kinda Carmicheal approved methodology. The theory here being that with a random attack on my fitness there is some chance that I may actually do something right as opposed to coming up with a plan that could be totally wrong from day one. The addendum to that theory is that they can't be called junk miles if I never physically move from one point to another while pedaling. Possibly one could call them junk non-miles, but I doubt anyone will be looking too deeply into my training methods in order to criticize them.

Damn it. Jill was forced to drop out of the race with frostbite. At least we can look forward to Mike Curiak rocking/racing/rolling/perambulating his MOOTS the whole 1,100 miles from Knik to Nome unsupported (bleccchhh).