The pool at the Y has been closed for a couple of weeks and won't be open again until some time in October. They're apparently "installing a new filtration system," which I'm pretty sure means that the filter finally sucked in one snot-covered turd too many. It also means that what little gains I have made with my erratic swim schedule is down the crapper. I guess they're letting people swim at one of the local high schools, but, frankly, I don't feel like breaking in a new pool. It was bad enough baring my skinny ass in front of old men -- stripping down in front of high-schoolers just ain't gonna happen at this stage in my life.
So, I tried riding my bike the other day. What a fucking brutal thing to do. I was fine for like the first couple of blocks, but then that crampy/achy muscle thing starts in my mosquito-leg thighs -- it feels kind of like diarrhea is coursing through my muscles. I felt like I was going to puke or shit... or puke on my shit.
The thing with swimming or running is, when you start getting really exhausted, you can slow down and take it a little easier. The problem with biking is, you're on a fucking bike. When you start getting really tired and wobbly, you can't slow down or you'll wipe. And there are cars whizzing by you every five seconds, so you can't start swerving or anything. It would be like doing laps in a pool filled with jet-skis whooshing by. It's fucking insane, this biking.
I'd use our elliptical machine that's sitting in the corner of the basement, gathering dust and earwigs, but my knees kill whenever I get on that thing. By the way, if anyone wants a sweet, good-as-new elliptical machine, come on by. It's yours.
So I don't know what I'll do until the pool reopens. I guess I'll try riding my bike again. You've gotta love the feeling of that rock-hard bike seat poking up into your taint -- you know, that can't be good for the ol' prostate.
Fucking bikes. What a buncha assholes.