It's like the editors of Bicycling magazine have me bugged. I've had two breakfasts with the current edition of Bicycling magazine, and, I swear, either I have had too many breakfasts with Bicycling or they are responding to the needs of their readers in an uncanny way.
On Sunday, I blogged about the cover story, "ride a hundred miles in a day" training program. Today, as I flipped through, I stumbled on this ad. "No one ever says, let's play triathlon."
Well, that might be true, because triathlons are the red-headed stepchild of the cycling, running, and swimming worlds. But, my friend, "The Mayor," when he is ready to get going on RAGBRAI, because we've lingered too long for his liking, says "let's play bikes."
I love that phrase, "play bikes." Unlike running or competitive swimming, little kids ride bikes because riding bikes is fun. I never understand runners because running, just running, while it is good exercise, just doesn't seem like that much fun. It's not play and exercise and transportation.
As I will allude to in future RAGBRAI-Recap Blogs, this year's RAGBRAI wasn't easy. Though I started the ride at about the same weight I was at last year, and I had way more miles, I struggled. Maybe I didn't have that base level fitness I developed in the Juice Fitness Challenge, I don't know, but I know I didn't like the way I felt.
I want to be strong enough and fast enough that the cycling part of RAGBRAI is the easy part. The being-the-most-possible-fun-and-doing-ridiculous-things part should be the challenging part.
And, I think the Mayor felt the same way. He rocked the 2010 RAGBRAI on the heels of the Triple By-Pass. He was super fit. This year, what with the demands of the Small One, not so much. His complaints regarding his physique and fitness were many.
At the same time, the man knows how to lock it up. He rode RAGBRAI 2011 with only 200-some miles under his biscuit. He was the constant cheerleader of his harem of lady friends, and he never failed to "mayor it up" on the last stretch into town. Boone will never forget you.
The same is true for the Brewery 100. Though he hadn't ridden his bike since RAGBRAI, he sucked it up and rode 3/4s of the way with characteristic good cheer.
Then, on Sunday, the whole family vegged out. We went took Tuque for a walk (while Steven ran!), went to brunch at Oskar Blues, hung out in the back yard, and made burgers for dinner, perfectly relaxing Sunday.
Somehow, on Sunday, though, the Mayor got it into his head that we needed to get up at 5:30 in the morning and go for a hike. I didn't want to go on such a hike. For one, I had to leave fairly early in the morning to get the Malibu back it the stable in Iowa by dark. For two, I had been huffing and puffing all weekend. I had been huffing and puffing on our walk around the neighborhood. I was tired of huffing and puffing. For three, I get up at 4:30 every morning now thanks to the Beav-X-90.
Despite these protestations, I was mocked, ceaselessly. My cajones were called into question and I was made to feel like a bum for turning down the pre-dawn slog. Never mind the fact that the Mayor had already threatened to drag me up some merciless mountain on the bike ride. Never mind the fact that he hadn't been for a hike in some time. I was the one who was creating a situation of suck.
I felt bad. I hate saying no to a challenge.
Thankfully, through some "creative" efforts on Steven's part, and some stubbornness on mine, the hike was avoided and we had eggs and bacon instead. (Might I add that I had no idea that Steven is such a good cook. Ya'll better get to this bed and breakfast before it gets on TripAdvisor and the prices go up.)
Everyone who is planning to attend RAGBRAI 2012: the Mayor, Steven, me, the Tiger, even little Easy E, Emily Rice: agree that we need to rock the ride in the fitness department. In the past, to that end, I have competed in a number of challenges with Steven and sundry blog-associates. Yet, one player remains conspicuously absent: the Mayor.
So, Mayor, I am calling you out, the way you called me out for that hike. Let's see you put your money where your mouth is: boots on the ground, asses in the saddle. I challenge you to some yet-to-be-determined fitness challenge.*
No more complaining. No more dual wardrobes for the two sizes of Mayor. We need a leader, someone to drag this constituency kicking and screaming over the fields of Iowa and the travails of Team Beaver. And, if I have to drop the competitive bomb, then Boom.
You want my vote? Bring it.
*Now, I have no idea what sort of challenge this should be. I am good at accepting challenges and losing (see here and here) at challenges, but not so good at designing them. Steven, on the other hand, is good. For that, I am going to call on the massive brainstorming power of the Smith household. Name your terms, then, let's play bikes.
Boom.
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| Yes, They Do |
Well, that might be true, because triathlons are the red-headed stepchild of the cycling, running, and swimming worlds. But, my friend, "The Mayor," when he is ready to get going on RAGBRAI, because we've lingered too long for his liking, says "let's play bikes."
I love that phrase, "play bikes." Unlike running or competitive swimming, little kids ride bikes because riding bikes is fun. I never understand runners because running, just running, while it is good exercise, just doesn't seem like that much fun. It's not play and exercise and transportation.
As I will allude to in future RAGBRAI-Recap Blogs, this year's RAGBRAI wasn't easy. Though I started the ride at about the same weight I was at last year, and I had way more miles, I struggled. Maybe I didn't have that base level fitness I developed in the Juice Fitness Challenge, I don't know, but I know I didn't like the way I felt.
I want to be strong enough and fast enough that the cycling part of RAGBRAI is the easy part. The being-the-most-possible-fun-and-doing-ridiculous-things part should be the challenging part.
And, I think the Mayor felt the same way. He rocked the 2010 RAGBRAI on the heels of the Triple By-Pass. He was super fit. This year, what with the demands of the Small One, not so much. His complaints regarding his physique and fitness were many.
At the same time, the man knows how to lock it up. He rode RAGBRAI 2011 with only 200-some miles under his biscuit. He was the constant cheerleader of his harem of lady friends, and he never failed to "mayor it up" on the last stretch into town. Boone will never forget you.
The same is true for the Brewery 100. Though he hadn't ridden his bike since RAGBRAI, he sucked it up and rode 3/4s of the way with characteristic good cheer.
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| That joy is contagious. |
Then, on Sunday, the whole family vegged out. We went took Tuque for a walk (while Steven ran!), went to brunch at Oskar Blues, hung out in the back yard, and made burgers for dinner, perfectly relaxing Sunday.
Somehow, on Sunday, though, the Mayor got it into his head that we needed to get up at 5:30 in the morning and go for a hike. I didn't want to go on such a hike. For one, I had to leave fairly early in the morning to get the Malibu back it the stable in Iowa by dark. For two, I had been huffing and puffing all weekend. I had been huffing and puffing on our walk around the neighborhood. I was tired of huffing and puffing. For three, I get up at 4:30 every morning now thanks to the Beav-X-90.
Despite these protestations, I was mocked, ceaselessly. My cajones were called into question and I was made to feel like a bum for turning down the pre-dawn slog. Never mind the fact that the Mayor had already threatened to drag me up some merciless mountain on the bike ride. Never mind the fact that he hadn't been for a hike in some time. I was the one who was creating a situation of suck.
I felt bad. I hate saying no to a challenge.
Thankfully, through some "creative" efforts on Steven's part, and some stubbornness on mine, the hike was avoided and we had eggs and bacon instead. (Might I add that I had no idea that Steven is such a good cook. Ya'll better get to this bed and breakfast before it gets on TripAdvisor and the prices go up.)
Everyone who is planning to attend RAGBRAI 2012: the Mayor, Steven, me, the Tiger, even little Easy E, Emily Rice: agree that we need to rock the ride in the fitness department. In the past, to that end, I have competed in a number of challenges with Steven and sundry blog-associates. Yet, one player remains conspicuously absent: the Mayor.
So, Mayor, I am calling you out, the way you called me out for that hike. Let's see you put your money where your mouth is: boots on the ground, asses in the saddle. I challenge you to some yet-to-be-determined fitness challenge.*
No more complaining. No more dual wardrobes for the two sizes of Mayor. We need a leader, someone to drag this constituency kicking and screaming over the fields of Iowa and the travails of Team Beaver. And, if I have to drop the competitive bomb, then Boom.
You want my vote? Bring it.
*Now, I have no idea what sort of challenge this should be. I am good at accepting challenges and losing (see here and here) at challenges, but not so good at designing them. Steven, on the other hand, is good. For that, I am going to call on the massive brainstorming power of the Smith household. Name your terms, then, let's play bikes.
Boom.
Nice.
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