What was promised:

What was delivered:

Clearly this WAS to be a candid declaration of that what is my motivation, expectation, status and even a few secret psycle training tips for the coming season.

Regrettably, expectedly and in reality, what we have is more of a musing.
A musing with the best of intentions.
But one without much actual content, direction, flow or purpose.

Let’s begin.

I have never looked good in tight pants.
Few people do.

Watch my feet pound holes in plywood,
Watch my hips crush plates of baked goods.

Long ago I was as a throbbingly vascular hunk of a man.
And a relatively predictable 109.8 kg (242 lb).

Not that long after I began cycling (cycling as a lifestyle that is.  As opposed to merely riding which is for children and people who have lost their license to a DUI) it was quickly reduced to the sub 100 kg range.

Watch out for my body rolls.

Not because I was fat persay.

There IS a logical explanation.

High kick.
High kick.

As my riding increases, gym time decreases.
Subsequently my weight decreases.

As my riding decreases, gym time increases.
Subsequently my weight increases.

Work that elastic, it’s looking fantastic.

Case in point.
After a large mileage spring had dropped my mass to some 93 kg (205 lb) I began ‘tapering’ two weeks prior to TransRockies 2007.
Bored and incapable of sedentary activity, I returned to the gym instead of riding.
By the go gun I had returned to 98.4 kg (217 lb).

It’s just the power of lycra tickles my tygra.

My weight trends largely from week to weak.
There has not (previously) been a notable correlation between mass and performance.

That’s the thing about being a poor cyclist.
There are so so many factors, so many excuses.  Improvement is sometimes a matter of remembering your shoes or installing your chamois, skids in.

Weight has never really been a consideration in my ‘training’.

Off or On seasons.

When I place my legs in a cage of spandex,
I dance like hell to release the madness.

Cyclists wear spandex.
I have accepted that.  On occasion externally embraced it.

I was already wearing tight pants,
I just did not activate them.

NOT to be confused with skinny jeans.

There is a (hindsightily) humorous story concerning myself, skinny jeans, three young boys and a catastrophic wall malfunction at Lucky Brand store in Toronto…

…in the end, literally, it wasn’t simply that a failed attempt to thrust my Herculean jams into a pair of (unmarked) skinny jeans sent me violently flailing toward the flimsy denim partition (thereby revealing a portion of my rippled extremities to a crowd of soon-to-be admirers).   It was the fact that I had to explain (to three highly impressionable boys) why their father (a man of supreme fashion sense and general awesomeness) would even TRY to install a pair of abhorrently slimming jeans in the first place.

Despite mine best denial, I fear they may not believe me.

Actual question:
“Once you’re drunk, are you stuck like that?”

Cyclist’s wear Tight Pants.

I want to own them.
But can you even dance in those pants?

Watch me woman!

Why might weight be important THIS offseason?

Because I am not riding so much.
Because I am going to the gym much more.
Because looking fantastic is important to me.
Because it’s important to you that I look fantastic.

In fact, looking fantastic will be a requirement for Team Psycles 2010.

What does that mean?
Why it means more Tight Pants of course.

Leslie has graciously provided the quotes to Psexy Psycles today, tomorrow, she will provide the pants.

Genuine Tight Pants.

Prior to ordering copious quantities, enough to cover all members members, I have procured the last remaining LARGE.

As a sample.
As a surprise.

Surprise!

My motivation?

All sweet and tender like a tiny baby kitty.

Comments
  • Biggie

    My senior year in high school the Miami Vice/Milli Vanelli look was all the rage (in Newfoundland anyways).

    Lycra shorts, neon tank or Tee, and the Crocket, Big Pimpin’ blazer. I most have looked spantastic! Couldn’t wear it to university as a freshman tho as some senior may have pummelled me into neon dust.

    Looking back, I probably would have gotten more leg if I wore 501′s and Daniel Hechter sweatshirts like all the other jocks. That and Mom’s K-car struggled as a panty remover…

    Maybe a Miami Mili theme for the anti race next year? Spandex, neon, and pimp blazers…

  • big ring

    juice monkey and tight pants? perhaps Lululemon? then they’ll match all your Lululemon tops which brings out your oh so muscular build

    bring on the fat wacking stick – hit me – hit me – hit me

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