Well that day was a bust. Miserable weather and the slightest nudge from Mrs. Fyrdman and I crumbled. Instead of a sweaty grind on the bike I had some leisurely drinks at a couple of bars followed by Winter Fajitas (C) and half a bottle of yet more Cote du Rhone.
I'd like to excuse myself on the grounds that I did two workouts over the weekend. But that's bollocks. I could have had water or juices while I was out. The wine was unneeded. Recovery days (recover from what?) are not slob out days. Really quite angry with myself.
In other news, lurkers. What the hell, someone other than my wife seems to be reading this blog? That's quite cool really. It adds pressure on me. Can't have people from around the world thinking I can't temper my appetites.
Feel free to leave any comments you want, I'll get back to you on any questions or the like.
Finally, I'm considering putting up some pictures of myself. If this all goes to plan they will provide me with a good signpost of where I don't want to end up again. It'll allow me to chronicle progress in picture format to along with the all important but boring as hell figures. And it might get me some cheap views from ladies who like their men pale as milk bottles.
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