My bicycle is faster than your bike!

As I often say you have to make the little things make you smile.
So riding back from the gym I was very, very sore; not the regular sore like "yeah I feel good I am sore cause I worked out like a monster". Nope I was sore like injured sore. A little background: On Monday while watching TV and staring at my roomies ab-roller it occurred to me that since I was just sitting there and it was just sitting there I might as well just use it. So throughout the movie I did 1000 situps and 50 bicycle kicks. No exaggeration at all in that number that is what I did. My original target was 100 situps and 50 bicycle kicks but the ab-roller made it so damn easy I just kept going and once I hit the 600 mark I decided I had to get to a 1000.

Well once I hit the 1k mark I pretty much lay there bit sore bit tired not too bad. Then I went to the gym yesterday (Wednesday) just 2 days later. Did a great back work out, figured hey "remember on monday when you said you would do 25 situps a night, well you skipped yesterday so use the ab roller here and do a 100". Well I think my brain was trying to protect me on Tuesday by making me skip that night! Once I got on the ab roller I felt sore. But of course I am a guy so hey "sore is good right?" I did a set of 20, felt harder than I expected. Put the legs up higher did a set of 30, sore, not too bad...did a set of 25 and started gasping...take a longer rest, no need to sit up straight. Did the 'final' set of 25 and got to 19 and then nearly started crying in the gym. My abs locked up and felt like someone had stabbed me in the lower abdominal. I grabbed the railing forced myself to a sitting position trying to 'look cool' cause really I could not have anyone at the gym thinking I had just hurt myself on an AB-MACHINE (I mean to be fair if I saw someone suddenly look like they were in pain I would chuckle too).

So I sat on the machine taking deep breaths trying to calm my body cause I really really wanted to cry out in pain and to look like I wasn't just sitting there (and really I was because I could NOT get up) I just kept bobbing my head as if listening to music while really on my ipod was the Tony Kornheiser show which is TALK radio. But damn it if I was not going to pose like I was a G! I started to have horror thoughts of having to take my phone and call down to the front desk and beg them to have a trainer come and lift me off the damn machine. Thankfully after a minute the abs calmed down enough for me to get up slowly and walk down to the locker room. And then the thought of horror hit me...I still had to ride home and if you are a rider you know YOUR ABS ARE ENGAGED WHILE RIDING.

So I unlock the bike (while wearing my new sparkly shorts) and I want to say hop on but really I leaned the bike so low to the ground that the seat was by my knees, then rolled on to it by using the curb to boost myself on. Then I start riding home! If anyone had tracked me they would have cracked up. I kept alternatively saying "Ow, Ow, Ow" and "Damn it I should just push this" sometimes hit with "Bloody THREE MILES!" So anytime I came to a stoplight if no car was in my lane I would just keep doing small turns in the lane rather than trying to lean over and put a foot down cause I was that sore. If a car was there I would actually ride up to the sign and lean on it with my shoulder just so I would not have to put my foot down.

While at one of the lights this guy with a motorcycle pulls up into my lane and revs his bike! So I look at him and he revs it again. So I did the only sensible think I clicked both brake handles 'click click' since that is pretty much the only sound you can make on a bicycle looked straight at him and yelled "You wanna race?". He looked at me like I was crazy revs again and I yelled "Guess that is a yes!" He revs, the light goes green and he PEELS OUT! I slowly push down on the pedals and start laughing...then immediately regret it because: Yup you guessed it LAUGHING USES YOUR ABS

"Why yes that sliver of glass came out of my heel, why do you ask?"

That was the only cheeky response I could give the roomie when he picked up a sliver of glass with blood on it, 3 rooms away from where the glass from a bottle had decided to invade my body through the bottom of my heel.

Background: We had a dinner party, there was a tonne of stuff in the refrigerator because as invariably happens things keep getting shoved in to the cooler. So late in the night I opened the refrigerator only to see a bottle start to spiral to the floor in what felt like slow motion. I grabbed for it but had the closing refrigerator door hit my hand so the bottle fell to the floor and as bottles filled with liquid tend to do, it shattered everywhere; with me stuck in the middle of the kitchen BARE FOOT. I tried to pick up everything immediately visible around me before even taking a step.

Grabbed a towel and mopped up all the liquid pushing it away from me hoping that while I was drying I was moving any shards away. Felt like I had gotten it all. Took a gingerly steps to the sink to drop the towel in there and hope that I was safe. Still no pain. But one knows you can never be too sure so now that the floor was dry of all the liquid I started to walk to the closet door to get the broom and wouldn't you know it there were bloody footprints! Yup not only had I gotten cut I had gotten cut badly enough that I was bleeding profusely enough to leave bloody prints.

So I had to limp to the bathroom to get cleaned up, then decided to go upstairs to get bandages. Apparently after my initial clean up I was still shedding glass shards (hence the roomie finding a piece). So while the party was going on I was further inspecting my heel and then bandaging it...then back to the party because after all we all have to rally.

Problem is, the next morning I woke up to a stinging heel. Went to the doctor's office and was told that the wait would be 2 hours so I went home and decided to play operation. Just like my old days when my parents would allow me to take care of the sick puppies (and I knew I was good because I am pretty sure my parents cared more about the dogs than me). So I grabbed forceps, a syringe, a scalpel (alright I might as well confess - I took a few debriding kits from the hospital from my days when I worked there) and went to work on my heel. Turns out that I had a very thin but very long piece of glass buried deep in my heel, which meant I had to slightly cut the heel and go in to get it.

What sucks about getting cut in the heel is that pretty much every footstep leads to bleeding. So I have been changing bandages every few hours, but at least the wound is clean, there is no sign of infection and I did not have to sit in a doctors office for 2 hours to have them over charge me to do the same thing I was able to do for myself. I guess the only major difference is that I cannot write myself a prescription for any 'great' drugs but I would not have taken them anyways so I saved myself some time and money and got the realize that I still got it!

And what of my working out you might ask yourself...yes I am still working out with the cut heel, just no running (aka elliptical because hahaha come on really) just riding the bike to the gym and weight lifting!

"I think that cop is following us...nope he is going past: us"

On the way home about a dozen cop cars screamed past us chasing a guy that I do not think was going to make it to the finish line because the cops were either going to shut down the highway or surround the car they were closing in so rapidly.

I have not blogged in awhile, long time readers will realize that I do not blog well when angry. So since I have been really angry for the past week I have not blogged much.

I am still iffy about going out in Downtown LA. Many of the so called cool spots are cool because of their locale (top floors on high rises) or because of their trappings/settings (like the Edison). Many of the spots with great music are absolutely thuggish and while by myself I am not worried about  going into such places, going with my female friends seems a bit risky.

Is there any more simple yet impressive task that feels so satisfying as swatting an annoying fly mid-flight?

You need rest for your muscles to grow...vol 2.434353

So I hear that title all the time, from body builders to casual guys at the gym to my own doctor. Well here is what I have done since benching on Friday evening: slept 4 hours Friday night, worked out Saturday morning, went to the V-ball tourney, slept 3 hours, did cardio, went to the Reggae Show (Marleys) now I am going to be up in 4 hours to head to court...let's hope that is enough time for the muscle growth...

At least tonight is just legs at the gym