It's been cold here. And by "cold" I mean "cold for Northern California softies like me." Right around now, people in truly wintry parts of the country are burning their furniture for warmth, while we're whining about 40 degree days and making panicked purchases of space heaters.
I freely admit that we're intolerant of weather extremes here. Hell, I revel in it, and pity the fools who have to deal with hot, humid summers and icy winters. I will not apologize for living in the land of milk and honey.
In keeping with my general wussiness, I opted to cycle indoors exclusively this week, with the exception of two uncomfortably chilly rides to work. Looks like I'm in good company, since both classes were packed. On Wednesday, in fact, all the bikes had been spoken for, even though I arrived 10 minutes early. Wendy was kind enough to give up her bike for me (Lisa was teaching). She had apparently taught the morning spin class, so was ok with going home to watch TV and eat popcorn. I take back all the mean things I said about her. She can play her God rock all she wants.
Also due to weather, my ride with Jake and Ed was called off. Too bad! I think I'm actually in decent shape right now, having ridden 4x a week for the last couple of months, mixing it up between intervals, tempo rides, and easy cruises.
So, instead, La Roleurette and I were up at oh-dark thirty for the 7-9am spin class. Wendy likes to start the class with the lights off. I found it strangely relaxing. Like being in a warm, sweaty womb. Despite brunch, sushi, mac and cheese, and cookies, I found myself behind the calorie count all day, and constantly hungry. The pollo asado tostada at Picante set me up for a nice finish, though.
Tomorrow, up at the crack of darkness once more for a Tahoe day trip...