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My planned workout today is to leave from my house, go up a major boulevard, which climbs about 200 feet over 8 or so miles, then levels out at 6000 feet, and then descends over 5 miles to just over 5000 feet. Then, turn around and climb back up and come back home. The plan is to do this 3 times, which should be about 70 miles.
But for now, I'm sitting here trying to figure out why I won't get up and go on my bike ride on what is, arguably, the most beautiful day we've had in months. I can't use the excuse that it's too cold.
I figure the next step is to get dressed, so I'll go do that.
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I have to keep reminding myself that if I do this ride, I'll lots of weight-watcher points, which use over the week to nibble, nibble, nibble.
I'll go get dressed now, I guess. Then it's just a matter of going out the door, right?
Right.
UPDATE, an hour later: I did get dressed. I was actually psyched, and ready to go. I wheeled my bike down the driveway...then saw Jake running up and down the street. I put him back in the back yard, and he was out within minute. Little $#it. I have no idea how he's getting out.
No ride until I figure out how to keep him safe.
...