Wanky training methods, scientifically tested to the highest standards of homeopathic remedies and divining rods, were recently challenged by a rider who derided my methods as “crap” and “utter bullshit.”
Of course I didn’t pay any attention to him because he was totally unable to explain the difference between “crap” and “utter bullshit.”
There are lots of technical areas around fitness and profamateur leaky prostate underwear racing, but a question I get asked a lot is, “How do I know when I’m peaking?”
Generally this is easy to answer because you’re riding everyone off your fuggin’ wheel, but most profamateur leaky prostate underwear racers get plagued by this question at night, or on the pot, or after a triple Italian sausage with pepperoni and mayonnaise extra large pizza with a gallon of IPA, so putting them on the bike and doing the “Ride ’em off your wheel” test isn’t practical.
Instead, I use the “You’re so vein” test, and it mostly only works with men. If you’re a woman and you pass the “You’re so vein” test then you should get yourself immediately to a cheeseburger.
The human vascular system is composed of veins, arteries, and stuff. The arteries take blood to your muscles, the veins take it away, and the stuff is complicated. For now we will ignore the arteries and stuff.
As you get fitter you get veinier. Sometimes you aren’t even fit and veins, like the beach thongs of spring, are popping out all over. These unfitness veins require surgery, are considered unsightly, and are called “varicose” because it is very coarse to show up with them at a beauty pageant.
Bike racer vein fitness is different. It comes from hard interval training, sprint practices, time in the gym, and a rigorous kimchi-date-broccoli-oxygen diet. Once all these things are done right, you’ll start getting veins in the normal places. But it’s not until you get veins in the special place that you know you’re really fit.
The fitness vein, whose visibility proves you are peaking and generally awesome, is called the left external iliac vein. It is a big old garden-hose blue vein that runs from your abdomen down into your junk and through your pelvis. In normal times, which is to say “putting gobs of peanut butter in your vanilla ice cream times,” this vein is hidden under a protective layer of lard.
As you get fitter and scale back on the snacks, the fat gets murdered by the muscles and carted off to the adipose burial disposal system, a/k/a “Mr. Poop.”
Pretty soon the forces of muscle have conquered the field of fat and your twelve months of abstemious living and pure hell are about to pay off because you’re going to get a top-10 in the Tuttle Creek Road Race next weekend in Lone Pine, where there are never more than ten entrants.
After enough peanut butter has been scrubbed away, this puppy starts popping out on your abdomen. It is bluish-green and when you touch it, it goes boiyong-boiyong. Your wife will say it’s gross, but when you tell her that women can never see theirs because they have too much tummy fat, she will smack you with the frying pan before sneaking off into the bathroom, locking the door, and hoisting her nightgown to see if she can find HER left external iliac vein.
Don’t say anything to her when she comes out if you value your life.
Anyway, that’s our fitness post for today. If you’re like Boozy P., who used to have lifetime franking privileges at the craft brewery next door, then woke up one day to find the brewery had moved, you may be on your way to cycling fitness. And yes, it’s okay to be vein about it.
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