Going out on the town

We all know the joy that comes from mounting the indoor trainer for extended mind-numbing torture. You know this must be what they're doing to Al Qaeda in the prisons, because it evokes about the same reaction from me — screaming, crying, writhing, and ultimately submitting and just getting the job done. It's become such a regular occurrence for me that I find myself muttering, "yes, please...may I have another..." during the "recovery" periods between intervals.

And since I've added "taint training" to the spin regimen, it's become a tradition I can't wait to break. And just because I know you're curious about the progress of the taint training, I've posted a recent photo for you to see. I'm sure you'll agree I'm reaping the benefits of this new-found method for hardening my body and toughening up my mind. Don't mind the tail...I hear it falls off once the calluses harden.



But my favorite thing to do to make the trainer sessions more palatable involves role playing. I've found that imagining I'm someone different, wearing the right attire, and talking the part, makes 75 minutes just fly by. In fact, I've found myself really enjoying this alter ego to the point that I have a hard time breaking out of my character. Here are a few examples.

A night out on the town: For many years I've admired the high-flying celebrities who always looked suave with a woman on their arm and a finely tailored tuxedo about their loins. So I've purchased this training jersey to make me feel like a million dollars. You know what they say...you feel more confident when you dress the part. And frankly, I feel every bit the $129.95 that Primal Wear charged me for this smooth looking piece of spandex and polyester.


Walker Texas Ranger: I don't know any martial art moves, or really have any muscles to speak of, but I find this jersey makes me feel all tough and ripped...like Chuck Norris doing the cycling equivalent of a round house to the chops of some petty criminal who's crossed the bearded phenom one too many times. I also have a matching cowboy hat complete with moisture wicking technology built into the brim. Of course, I wear this jersey under a flannel button-down long sleeve shirt just to complete the ensemble. And for those of you following along, you'll be happy to know that when I take my chamois off and put my cowboy boots on, I've transformed into the taint training outfit. Smooth like butta'...



Storm Trooper: Who hasn't wanted to don the black spandex and hard white plastic of a Storm Trooper suit and protect the evil overlords trying to take over the galaxy? Well I for one never got the chance to be a storm trooper for Halloween and sporting this jersey for trainer sessions makes me feel like I'm fighting the force and flying at light speed through stars instead of only logging 35 miles and never leaving my living room.



Just relaxin': Who doesn't feel more relaxed when they're dressed to land a few trout? I find this kit brings out the Sunday driver in me. And as long as the mosquitoes don't come with it, I'm pleased to be wearing it. The waders, however, don't seem to want to integrate with my Speedplay pedals.

Mulletude: Last season I was trying to grow my pseudo mullet, and now that I think about it, this behavior may have been a result of wearing the Rolling Stones jersey during training too much. However you rock it, you should be doing it in a faux denim jersey...with a cigarette...and a can of Schlitz. What the heck, if you aren't fully blasted when you take this jersey off, your bender, errrr, training session, just wasn't productive.

Meet me in SF: I can't be certain this photo is from SF, but considering the bayside vantage point and the style of the jersey, I'm thinking that's where it originated from. And it's where I imagine myself when I'm wearing it. It takes a brave, brave man to wear this jersey, and an even braver man to admit it. It takes a man with more bravery than all the Mel Gibsons in the world to be seen in it out on your bike...bravery on the trainer is one thing, bravery in front of people is something I'm still working up to.

Because I can: And finally, when I just have that devil-may-care attitude and I want to feel like I'm just having fun as an 8-year-old on my Schwinn Stingray, I pull this beloved suit on and put my son's BMX bike on the Cyclops instead of my rig and just pedal and coast, then pedal and coast. Bunny hopping has been troublesome so far, but in my imagination I've cleared several trash cans.

Two wheels for life. And an infinite supply of Primal Wear Jerseys for training indoors. And only indoors. If you wear these outside, you're an idiot.