Being on the road has it's pitfalls, one of which is overdoing it from time to time.
Fish tacos and homemade Raspberry Parfaits with Grumpy Mike and his family, Prime Tenderloin Steaks and Roasted Asparagus with Biggus and Kim, Chicken Fried Steak with Biscuits and Gravy with Paul, and an Angus Burger with French Fries with Kelly, have all added up to spell waistline disaster.
Since we are going to be riding away from Scottsdale on Tuesday, I've been trying to make the most of the hotel gym this last week. Amid struggles with Fibromyalgia pain and busy with work, I've not worked out as much as I should and I'm noticing the pounds appearing back on my midsection.
This machine seemed to know I had been cursing it, because it performed oddly. The settings were stuck on the highest level of resistance and the heart rate monitor wouldn't work. I struggled for 5 minutes trying to get it to lessen the level, loudly groaning in pain. After 10 minutes it allowed me to adjust the level down a few notches, but the heart rate monitor never worked.
"My machine is broken. I'm quitting. . . "
No. Not today, not ever.
When my cardio routine was over I had completed 25 minutes of heart-crunching exercise, so much so that I nearly fainted upon my dismount.
After catching my breath, I meandered proudly back to our room and vomited my dinner thusly. I have never barfed after a workout, but this must be an added bonus of calories undigested, adding to the overall point of working out in the first place.
The spoils of victory are mine!