One wouldn’t be mistaken to surmise that my thoughts wasn’t a lot on vitamin throughout this time. And to no matter extent it was, it centered totally on determining the place I might wipe the accumulating layer of neon cheeto mud from my fingers sufficiently sufficient to make sure an sufficient grip on my subsequent barley pop.
Suffice it to say, my “offseason” vitamin regime was just about an “all-bets-are-off” affair, given to whims, comfort and hedonistic hankering. And looking back, that was most likely simply what the physician ordered. Name it a hunch, however I believe that loosening some dietary restraint after a season containing wherever between 70-90 bike races (a profession path that virtually has creating a Physique Dysmorphic Dysfunction written into the job description) and packing on just a few additional kilos courtesy of New Belgium Brewing and Frito Lay most likely wasn’t an altogether dangerous factor.
In spite of everything, come early November, it was again on the proverbial “horse”…packing on the bottom miles, making an attempt to persuade myself I REALLY LOVE salads, and indulging solely within the wistful sniffing of pastries behind the plate glass of bakery division shows.
However that was then.
And now… properly, now the “offseason”, not less than in that sense, is however a fond reminiscence of youth.
Alas, now, each day is the offseason. I not draw a paycheck typically outlined by metrics like FTP, VAM, and different foolish acronyms concocted by some evil genius in a human efficiency lab. Nope. Now my motivation for restraint on the chow trough now lies solely in an intrinsic need to A) not look too terrible bare and, B) keep a degree of health adequate sufficient to permit me to not less than give off the looks that I nonetheless know pedal a bicycle.