Day Fifteen: Eduardo’s Road To Fitness

I woke up yesterday morning and felt fine.  I did not feel odd in anyway whatsoever.  I had a large bowl of Weetabix, with a sprinkling of raisins and a generous helping of skimmed milk.  Like a young child, I watched miniature rivers form in the slowly softening Weetabix, my eyes transfixed on the numerous tiny waterfalls. Mesmerized as they cascaded down from the highest reaches of my cereal mountain, running eventually into the milky sea below.

Had I been a seer or prophet that could foretell the future I would have eaten another three bowls, a loaf of bread and a large plate of pasta.  But I did not.  I felt fine.  All was good in my world and I thought I was about to start another normal day.

I wonder if, Lord Horatio Nelson woke up the day he lost his eye feeling all was well in his world? Did JFK down his morning cup of coffee thinking another regular day was about to start, looking forward to a drive in his presidential motorcade along with his lovely wife Jacqueline and the governor from Texas, John Connally? What about Lord Vader? As he sat in the staff canteen, tucking into his Penne all’Arrabiata, did he think the Death Star was going to go ‘Boom’ later on?

I am not sure but I reckon they all thought nothing was out of the ordinary that all was well and that life was jolly normal.

Before you start wondering, I did not lose an eye.  Nor was I shot whilst riding in a limo. All that happened was that I ran out of food and ‘died’ on my bike ride. It was however a truly massive, spectacular ‘legs fell off turned to mush, body gave up, had tunnel vision, head was pounding, pins and needles in the legs, metallic taste in the mouth’, a Death Star explosion kind of died. Not a great ride then.

I think you need to make a good old rookie mistake every now and then. It keeps you on your feet, keeps it real.  My mistake was to only eat salad for dinner the previous night, without any pasta, rice or indeed any carbohydrate whatsoever.  To top it all off I did not refuel properly after my long ride the day before. I missed the crucial window of opportunity, whereby glycogen stores are replenished quickly, through the intake of carbohydrate. I should have had some carbohydrates within an hour of finishing the ride, ideally with a high Glycemic Index, but I didn’t.

In essence I gave in to my taste buds that were crying out for salt, and sugar, I filled myself up on the wrong stuff and when it came to eat the right stuff, I didn’t.  It is as simple as that.

So when I set off yesterday on my ride I did so with my tank already on reserve.

When I am in my car I am terrible when it comes to driving on reserve.  Perhaps it is a male thing? I will drive until the needle is bent around ‘Empty’, the fuel pump is pinging away, trying in vain to suck up fuel, and then I will still drive past the petrol station and try to make it to the next one, three miles away. Uphill. In my defence, I have never run out of fuel in a car. Not yet.

My record is not quite so squeaky clean when it comes to cycling.

I only cycled about 50KM, nothing really in the grand scheme of things but it was fairly horrendous.

I arrived home, in a nasty mood, annoyed at myself for being such an idiot.  I sat down and ate.  Then I ate again.  For dinner I had pasta.  Three massive bowls.  I squashed the voice inside me that said “hey dude that is way too much pasta, you’ll turn into a blimp” and ate another bowl. Then I had another one just to spite him.

Eat well my fellow cyclists.  By all means build those Weetabix mountains the size of the Himalaya, but make sure you eat well the night before as well or you will pay the price.

I leave you with Lord Vader and his Penne All’Arrabiata courtesy of Eddie Izzard and YouTube.


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