RPM Death Clicks

I awoke this morning to this little girl sidled up alongside my back using my body as a bunker as she smacked the biggest cat on the butt and called him names.

That’s not the way you want to wake up.

Because biggest cat is eventually gonna hit his boiling point and turn around to slap her upside the head. Claws out. Only it won’t be her head he makes contact with.

Because my body is the bunker.

I was gonna get up early this morning and go help my parents clean layers of soap off of the floors and walls of the pool bathrooms. And watermelon out of the toilets. Because some people raise assholes.

You don’t throw perfectly good watermelon in the toilet. What the hell?

But my son informed me late last night that the sheriff found and managed to get a confession out of the little assholes and is making them clean it up themselves.

Maybe that will unasshole them a little.

Probably not, though.

Because asshole parents.

My son was supposed to sit guard at the pool over the next two days.

Not lifeguarding.

But bathroom monitoring. To try to determine who the assholes were that did it.

Or at least be an intimidating figure to keep it from happening again.

I offered to sit guard with him.

He said, “Nah. ‘Cause you’re gonna have to run or HIIT or something and you’re not gonna want to get up at 3:30 in the morning and then sit out in the hot sun all day.”

My kids aren’t assholes.

I raised them that way. The unasshole way.

And he’s absolutely right.

Yesterday, Rogue and I got in a fully successful CRL trail run. Managed to complete it in six miles. Because we measure the success of our runs not in how long it takes us, but in how many miles it takes us to run a pre-established route.

You know us. You understand.

Although, Rogue did think the loop was only a five mile loop, so maybe we weren’t as successful as we thought.

I didn’t think the loop was anything. Because I’ve never successfully done it outside of an official Mountain Junkies race.

And really, I spent the run more focused on trying to figure out if we were running it clockwise or counter-clockwise. Because that’s a thing on this trail. And trying to visualize uppers and lowers, because those are also things on this trail. And worrying about the sounds Rogue was making behind me.

But this looks successful to me.

Because the loop connects…

Then I decided it would be a good idea to head on over to Beautiful Beastie’s RPM class at Carilion Westlake.

I’ve never taken a cycle class before.

And it’s been at least ten years since I’ve ridden a bike.

The body forgets.

Nothing about my body was ready for this.

I was looking at the clock four minutes in.

My body is still recovering from leg and arm and full body days at PlayFITStayFIT.

And Beautiful Beastie doesn’t let you slack off during class. She takes you right to your limit and then says, “now a few more clicks to the right!”

Those clicks to the right? Yeah. Those are death clicks.

I’m pretty sure I even heard Finn’s Dad’s brain say, “screw this” at one point. And he never complains. I mean, he didn’t say it out loud. But his brain did. My brain heard it. And said back, “Yeah. Screw this. Let’s go get a beer.”

But our brains didn’t go get a beer. They kept death clicking to the right.

And then on the last song, Beautiful Beatie says she’s gonna take us up Mill Mountain and Roanoke Mountain to finish the class. For funsies.

But she says it with such a beautiful smile on her face that you almost can’t visualize ripping the handlebars off of the bike and beating her with them.

Almost.

But damn. When it’s over. You realize that you pushed yourself through discomfort in ways that you don’t normally do out on the trail. Because on the trail, I’m totally cool with taking it easy and just enjoying the scenery. And stopping to chat with the other trail runners we pass. And petting the puppies out for their walks. And trying to process direction at every intersection.

Beautiful Beastie may very well have increased my endurance a bit yesterday morning. Who knows what could happen if I go back for more.

And it’s probably really important that I do go back for more. Because I’ve got some ridiculous shit planned this year. August looks to be particularly ridiculous.

I’m gonna need a little endurance just to survive the month.

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