I’ve been thinking lately that maybe it’s time—time to get back on my bicycle.
It’s true.
However, I now have the rather non fortuitous circumstance of having allowed my YMCA membership subside (conflicting gym hours made getting there difficult) so instead of going there regularly, I am instead now visiting a local gym thirty seconds from my front door which I can visit in the early mornings prior having to go to work. Unfortunately though, they do not have a spin bike , meaning of course, that I am now left to my own devices as far as ‘spinning’ is concerned.
You know what that means then—two words: PAIN CAVE.
Now don’t get too excited as there is certainly nothing hi-tech nor fancy about this pain cave, as the most ‘painful’ thing about it (cold temps aside) is the super uber-boredom of spinning in one’s garage—trust me.
Take a look:
As you can see, it’s certainly not glamorous (or warm) but as far as “pain caves” go this is about as ‘torturous’ as it gets.
Where others have fancy manicured pain caves or some other specially dedicated workout spaces that have been kitted out with all the necessary and creature accoutrements, I have a space heater, a 2×4 to place it on and a whole lot of …
Mind you though, that ‘get er done’ attitude has been coming across a whole lot more like “but do I hafta?” instead these days. Regardless, instead of free weights, kettle bells, medicine balls and other assorted workout paraphernalia and electronic gadgetry, in my pain cave I am surrounded by hammers, wrenches, screwdrivers, extension cords and (for God knows what reason) a bucket full of used wooden spoons.
Yeah.
What can I say?
Dare I remind you (click HERE).
To say that my garage set-up is pretty Spartan would the understatement of the century. Personally, I prefer to think of it as more like the training montage in Rocky 4 (click HERE). If there’s anything more tedious than staring at a rack of old, rusty tools for sixty minutes as you spin your ass off in a meat locker, I haven’t found it. In truth, I don’t wake up so much deciding what kind of workout I’m going to do or how long I’m going to ride, I wake up thinking to myself: “I wonder where I can put that gasket wrench I haven’t used in eight years”
Stupid, right?
Whatever it is, it represents a (very) small positive step back towards reclaiming my old healthy self and something resembling my former cycling prowess so that …
… instead of the guy riding at the back this year (not that there’s any problem with that!), I’d like to once again make a return to being the reliable, hard-driving machine riding at the front like I was in the past and I know I can be again.
God Help Me! 