Primal Fear

Anyone remember those rad Primal Fear jerseys from the 90s? I know we all have at least one, or if not at least some great icon of 90s cycling legend that is just oozing with the funk of 40,000 rides.

I wanted to report in that, after a brief hiatus (spelled that right on the second try), Team Scrappy is still trucking along, making the donuts, having a big bowl of slappsgiving every day for breakfast, and generally sweating and crying our fat arses off. This time of year there's not much to say about triathlons that is 'inspiring'. The near total absence of inspiration has reminded me of a good analogy for March in Tri Town. My big purple Primal Fear jersey that is stashed away somewhere in my basement of cycling clothing (aka. mom's house).

If March was a Primal Fear jersey it would have a picture of me on it (really big caracature head) riding a  donkey sweating bullets up a mountain made of molasses while pushing away a big plate of broccoli and, instead, reaching for a cheeseburger sub while being chased by a pack of wolves.

What does all this mean you might ask? Well, March, to me, is the epitome of LAZINESS and FEAR. Especially now that I've trained through an entire race season and know just how bad it is going to get. And, since it's the second coming or race season, I know how BAD it is going to get. If you thought it was bad LAST YEAR this time, and you're 3 months ahead of yourself last year THIS YEAR then sweet cheesus, welcome to the jungle. You're gonna DIE baby.

If you can get there that is.  Through all the poopy rainy day rides indoors, terrible terrible healthy food, and depressing power readings that confirm just how out of shape you are. etc. etc. You know, standard off-season biyatching about training.

I am scared. Scared of training. Ignorance was bliss. Bliss baby. Bliss.

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