Okay, so I often have not so good ideas. No, sometimes I have downright bad ideas. Like today. At lunch I went for the Pepper Burger at Wings and Rings. I love the sandwich, and you add their kettle chips... man, ambrosia of the gods. I don't get it often, but I never miss a chance when I'm there.
I figured I would pay for the burger down the line, but I had no idea how quickly it would happen, or that the misery would be shared by others. We were supposed to meet at the lab at 3 to spin; I wanted more miles, so I got there early. By the time I was on the bike, I could tell the gastric disturbance would be a sooner rather than later issue.
If you've never been to the lab, the spinning room is full. Tight. Phone booth tight. Put bluntly, if I flare my elbows while on the bike, I would hit the person next to me.
So I was about 16 miles into a 30-mile ride when the pain became unbearable. I ripped one loose and was immediately sorry. Not as sorry as the fellow next to me, I assure you. One of our members has said he learned in college that, however bad a smell is, your nose registers it for only 8 seconds. That lie was put to rest this afternoon. I singed the nose hair out of the poor fellow next to me.
If I had any class at all I would have gotten off the bike and gone home, but since I have no class I stayed. I promised the miserable wretch next to me I would hold on until 20 miles then go. Small comfort that must have been! I suppressed all other urges for that length of time (about 12 more minutes), then had a walk in another room. That seemed to help, and I was able to get on the bike and complete another 10 miles without incident. The damage was done, though.
I felt so bad after the fact. The more I thought about it the more I realized I shouldn't have put the guys through that. I did get my 30 miles completed, but not without cost. For the endurance athlete, gas is a fact of life. Under normal circumstances you let it fly and there is no harm done. Farting in a phone booth with a captive audience is never a good idea, even amongst friends.
Anyway, I'm thinking of changing the name of the place from the Energy Lab to "Dutch Oven".
I figured I would pay for the burger down the line, but I had no idea how quickly it would happen, or that the misery would be shared by others. We were supposed to meet at the lab at 3 to spin; I wanted more miles, so I got there early. By the time I was on the bike, I could tell the gastric disturbance would be a sooner rather than later issue.
If you've never been to the lab, the spinning room is full. Tight. Phone booth tight. Put bluntly, if I flare my elbows while on the bike, I would hit the person next to me.
So I was about 16 miles into a 30-mile ride when the pain became unbearable. I ripped one loose and was immediately sorry. Not as sorry as the fellow next to me, I assure you. One of our members has said he learned in college that, however bad a smell is, your nose registers it for only 8 seconds. That lie was put to rest this afternoon. I singed the nose hair out of the poor fellow next to me.
If I had any class at all I would have gotten off the bike and gone home, but since I have no class I stayed. I promised the miserable wretch next to me I would hold on until 20 miles then go. Small comfort that must have been! I suppressed all other urges for that length of time (about 12 more minutes), then had a walk in another room. That seemed to help, and I was able to get on the bike and complete another 10 miles without incident. The damage was done, though.
I felt so bad after the fact. The more I thought about it the more I realized I shouldn't have put the guys through that. I did get my 30 miles completed, but not without cost. For the endurance athlete, gas is a fact of life. Under normal circumstances you let it fly and there is no harm done. Farting in a phone booth with a captive audience is never a good idea, even amongst friends.
Anyway, I'm thinking of changing the name of the place from the Energy Lab to "Dutch Oven".
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