Coach Josh
To be able to accomplish such a feat as riding the entire Tour de France I hire a Coach from the Carmichael Training System. I quickly adopted the Carmichael Training system, the Carmichael beverage system, and the Carmichael nutrition system.
Every day, Coach Josh prescribes a workout. He says I have to put out a certain amount of watts, keep my heart rate in a certain zone, and ride for a specific amount of time. The rides range from one hour to four hours a day.
But it always takes more than that. The bike needs to be fixed. Food needs to be prepared. And of course, there’s always the laundry. When you ride every day, you generate massive amounts of dirty laundry.
All of this takes up so much time, I soon find myself in need of the Carmichael Friend Replacement System, and possibly the Carmichael Spouse Replacement System.
Sensing that Mr. Carmichael will not have a new spouse for me, I make some massive concessions to my wife of 9 years, Linda Berkeley. I will do whatever I’m told. As long as I have the energy to do it and don’t have to stay up past 9:00 at night.
I shall also become sensitive. I imagine sensitive-specific exercises. “Alright, today we’re to have a three-hour sensitivity training session. You’re going to be kind and gentle for 30 minutes, then crank out an hour of snuggling, followed by 30 minutes of interesting conversation, another 30 minutes of doing what you’re told and then warm down with pleasant conversation with the in-laws. Progress will be measured. Everyone will suffer. Any questions? Alright, saddle up and get out there and be sensitive until you puke!”
While I have no friends anymore, what I do have is Coach Josh. Twice a week, I talk to Josh about my life. We discuss my at-rest heart rate, my max heart rate, the amount of watts I’m putting out, how I sleep, how I feel, what I’m eating. Josh’s job is to pretend he cares. He’s doing pretty well pretending
The first best is the temperpedic mattress Linda made me buy. When you are cross-eyed tired, there is nothing in this world half as much fun lying down on a temperpedic mattress and going to sleep. You wake up feeling refreshed, rejuvenated, reborn.
The dread is that Coach Josh’s schedule never lets up. He gives you Monday as the day off and then he hits you every day with something new. If you ride two hours a day, he calls it a recovery week. By the end of the week, you can’t wait until Monday when you can sit in your car and drive around, listening to the radio, humming a happy tune, thinking how great it is you’re not on the bike.
When it snows, it gets worse. You still have to ride, but now you have to do it indoors. You put the bicycle onto an unfortunate contraption called a trainer. It’s like a hamster wheel for humans. And there you sit, sweating to the oldies, for a long, long time. Somehow, I do the entire 3-hour ride indoors on the trainer and I have no idea how I get it done. The riding is not fun.
One of the pleasant things about riding a bike is it is aesthetically pleasing. The scenery changes, you see people, and even creatures. I’ve snuck up on squirrels, dogs, and coyotes. Each is a pleasure. To be seated in front of the TV is pure pain.
Every day, Coach Josh prescribes a workout. He says I have to put out a certain amount of watts, keep my heart rate in a certain zone, and ride for a specific amount of time. The rides range from one hour to four hours a day.
But it always takes more than that. The bike needs to be fixed. Food needs to be prepared. And of course, there’s always the laundry. When you ride every day, you generate massive amounts of dirty laundry.
All of this takes up so much time, I soon find myself in need of the Carmichael Friend Replacement System, and possibly the Carmichael Spouse Replacement System.
Sensing that Mr. Carmichael will not have a new spouse for me, I make some massive concessions to my wife of 9 years, Linda Berkeley. I will do whatever I’m told. As long as I have the energy to do it and don’t have to stay up past 9:00 at night.
I shall also become sensitive. I imagine sensitive-specific exercises. “Alright, today we’re to have a three-hour sensitivity training session. You’re going to be kind and gentle for 30 minutes, then crank out an hour of snuggling, followed by 30 minutes of interesting conversation, another 30 minutes of doing what you’re told and then warm down with pleasant conversation with the in-laws. Progress will be measured. Everyone will suffer. Any questions? Alright, saddle up and get out there and be sensitive until you puke!”
While I have no friends anymore, what I do have is Coach Josh. Twice a week, I talk to Josh about my life. We discuss my at-rest heart rate, my max heart rate, the amount of watts I’m putting out, how I sleep, how I feel, what I’m eating. Josh’s job is to pretend he cares. He’s doing pretty well pretending
The first best is the temperpedic mattress Linda made me buy. When you are cross-eyed tired, there is nothing in this world half as much fun lying down on a temperpedic mattress and going to sleep. You wake up feeling refreshed, rejuvenated, reborn.
The dread is that Coach Josh’s schedule never lets up. He gives you Monday as the day off and then he hits you every day with something new. If you ride two hours a day, he calls it a recovery week. By the end of the week, you can’t wait until Monday when you can sit in your car and drive around, listening to the radio, humming a happy tune, thinking how great it is you’re not on the bike.
When it snows, it gets worse. You still have to ride, but now you have to do it indoors. You put the bicycle onto an unfortunate contraption called a trainer. It’s like a hamster wheel for humans. And there you sit, sweating to the oldies, for a long, long time. Somehow, I do the entire 3-hour ride indoors on the trainer and I have no idea how I get it done. The riding is not fun.
One of the pleasant things about riding a bike is it is aesthetically pleasing. The scenery changes, you see people, and even creatures. I’ve snuck up on squirrels, dogs, and coyotes. Each is a pleasure. To be seated in front of the TV is pure pain.
posted by joe berkeley at 7:32 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home