Gauging Fitness

Some cyclists have power meters and scour over the data every week to make sure that their peak wattage is progressing as desired. Some cyclists track their morning heart rates every day to make sure they aren't overtaxing themselves cardiovascularly.

Some cyclists go to downtown New Brunswick and dance.

That's how I knew today's ride with the increasingly fit Jay #1 was going to be tough. Last night, I had the Urkel Dance going pretty well, by which I mean I shuffled back and forth and tried not to bend my knees at all. Classic white boy stuff.

When Lil' John insisted that we get low, the problems started. I was creaking like an old man. My poor knees! This has been a tough week of training, and the legs weren't shy about letting me know.

The lesson has been learned. Next time, I'm going to stretch before dancing. Also, I will warm up properly (20 minutes of light dancing, with 30-60 seconds of intense popping and locking interspersed). Maybe I'll have an Accelgel mid-dance.

They should make beer-flavored Accelerade.

Megan and I caught a cab home, because neither of us was even close being sober enough to drive. And by "a cab", I mean "the cab", because that was the only cab we saw all night, even at the taxi headquarters by the train station. There was already a passenger when we got in, that's how dire the cab situation was. We entertained him by making plans to break into Will's room to watch Francis the Talking Mule and then explaining what Francis the Talking Mule is.

I had a hangover this morning. Mountain biking cures hangovers. True story.