A Sign

Last year I worked really hard and did really well with getting my weight under control and getting into cycling shape. I took a break in the month of December and got a new bike. This year I’ve been pretty lame. I haven’t been riding much, I haven’t done any of the core workouts I intended to do, and my diet is creeping back to the bad old days.

Sure I can blame all this backsliding on my schedule. This semester has been exceptionally busy. I just can’t find the time to get on my bike more than one day a week. I had wanted to do a 100 mile ride—the Tour de Cure—here in SC in early May, but I just haven’t gotten the miles in yet to even start some kind of training program. Even if I could start training, I likely won’t be able to ride much in April because the family schedule will be really cranked. 

I’ve been hoping that the upcoming time change will allow me to ride in the early mornings before the crazy days start. I’ve been hoping that the time change will jump-start me. Yesterday, I got a sign—that I need to get my ass in gear before I undo all that I’ve been able to do so far.

I was in the front seat of my car. My son wanted his water bottle out of the back and it was on the floor. I turned around, draped my body over the front seat and reached for the bottle on the floor. At that point, all of my weight was balanced on the corner of my seat’s headrest and it was all focused on one rib. Then something went crunch. My rib has hurt ever since…like when you crack, break, separate a rib…it hurts when I laugh, breath, cough.

Literally, I hurt myself under the weight of my own body. That is both comical and pathetic. Here, then is my wake up call. Hey Fat Archaeologist, get off your ass and quit hiding behind your schedule.