“Give me a lever long enough and a place to stand, and I shall move the earth.”
I had to head into work on Sunday morning for a few hours (a “few” having ultimately turned into seven –meh!), for an engineering test run. Why I went in to work on a Sunday (in the middle of football season! And with the World Series in progress) is not germane to this post, nor is it particularly interesting to anyone outside of the admittedly small world of pharmaceutical validation (or, for that matter, to anyone within the small world of pharmaceutical validation) — however, my workout plans — and their mutations — may be of some passing interest.
What the hell, I figured, once I’d found out that I’d have to make it in to work on a Sunday, I’ll just drop by the gym on the way home and knock out a few rounds of DB Snatches and (some something else that I hadn’t, at that time, yet figured out) — turn a not-so-good situation into a win-win. I’m all for — even if it’s just an exercise in fooling myself — making lemonade out of the proverbial lemons. When I left the plant, though, I was greeted with cloudless, 70-something degree weather. Not exactly the type of day you want to spend indoors.
The On-the-Fly Adjustment
This kind of a day was made for either sprinting or biking — I decided on both. So I busted a move home, loaded my backpack with my Nike Free’s (just in case barefootin’ it wasn’t going to be an option) and saddled-up the fixie. What followed was (1)an intense bout of fixie intervals, and (2) 10 x ~100 meter sprints, done in this fashion:
Hard start and an all-out acceleration to 40 meters, then hold at ~90% to the 100 meter mark,
walk (as this was done on the ECU soccer field) to the opposite sideline,
repeat for a total of 10 reps. I’d guess the time between each sprint was approximately 20 seconds.
I saddled back up and — this time at a more leisurely pace — hucked it about G-Vegas and the ECU campus. Then it was homeward bound to get a couple of racks of ribs (like these) prepped and on the grill.
G-Vegas Ain’t Exactly Cinci, But…
What comes first and foremost to your mind when you think of a bicycle jockey? A 110 lb. praying mantis, perhaps, with (relatively) mal-proportioned thighs? Well, I’d be willing to bet that whatever came first to your mind, these terms did not: Black. NFL. Linebacker.
But now thanks to Urban Jeff over at Urban Velo, I’ve found that I’m not the total enigma that I’d previously thought I was! Thanks, UJ, for finding this story. And thanks, too, to the Gods of serendipity for having me stumble upon it.
And thanks to Dhahi (Duh-Hah-nee, it means, appropriately enough, thinking man in the Hindi language) Jones for being such an inspiration. If only every other professional athlete was as — well professional — sensible, intelligent and down-to-earth.