Curse you, power-to-weight ratio.
I could've chosen a mellow activity like archery or gator rasslin', but no. I had to pick a sport that's ruled by this merciless equation. The only way to ride faster is to: (a) increase your power, (b) decrease your weight, or (c) find a top-notch pharmacist.
I tend to squander my cash on food and shelter, so "c" is out. Boosting my power would be an option if I were 23 and had been born without pain receptors, but I burst into tears when I get a paper cut opening my AARP mail.
That leaves weight loss. Fortunately, there's lots of advice on the topic. Unfortunately, none of it works.
I could weigh my food, as some nutrition experts suggest. Or I could employ the non-diet diet of simply not eating for a few days. Or I could subsist on baby food, which one top Tour rider supposedly did in the 1980s. ("Alpe d'Huez tomorrow? Pass me another jar of strained peas!")
All of those require superhuman discipline. Where was I when the Big Guy was handing out that trait? Probably in the cafeteria.
To shed pounds, I have to nibble around the edges of the problem. Oh, I know all the angles. Skim milk instead of regular. Good carbs vs. empty ones. Whole grains over, um, half grains. Death to high-fructose corn syrup. Long live yams.
And yet the scale is not impressed. I watch as my spare tire inflates from 650B to 700C.
Enough, I say. This time the weight's coming off for good, one way or another.
Tomorrow, I'm buying a lighter bike.
If you enjoy reading Scott Martin, the eBook Spin Again contains 181 of his witty, sometimes wacky, and occasionally heart-felt observations on road cycling.