My Summer Vacation, or The Cesspool of Sin

Dear Reader,

Greetings from south of the Mason Dixon Line! Fit Lesbian and I have spent a week in southern Appalachia to attend a family reunion in Brevard, North Carolina. And we drove.  Boston to Brevard is about 17 hours so we threw the road bikes in the car, downloaded Atlas Shrugged, and set out for adventure.

Discoveries from My Summer Vacation

1) The audio book version of Atlas Shrugged is 62 hours long. By the time we get back to Boston, I will still have no idea who John Galt is.  

2) Roanoke, Virginia is adorable, chock full of cute restaurants, bikes, and artsy old signage. We still weren’t holding hands in the street or anything, but we were almost lulled into a sense of security by these left-leaning indicators. 

(Cute!)

3) Asheville, North Carolina has over 50 microbreweries, has yet to outlaw public nudity, and smells faintly of incense. While rallying support for an Anti Gay Marriage amendment,  Republican Senator James Forrester called Asheville a “Cesspool of Sin.” The local NPR station thought this was catchy, so they put it on T-shirts and gave them away during pledge drives.

 (I bought one.)

4) I only know one line from the song “Take My Breath Away”.

5) DON’T TAKE THE SCENIC ROUTE. The Blue Ridge Parkway has been dubbed the “most beautiful” road in North America and looks like this:

 (not scenic)

Bonus: it has two lanes so you have plenty of time to take in the view from behind the only other car on the road which will inevitably be driving 20mph. The Blue Ridge Parkway runs through the Appalachian Mountains, and is also where professional cyclists train because of the insane elevation gains, so we thought we would try it. We got up at 6:00am to beat the southern heat, and set out for a nice long 2 hour bike ride. We rode 8 miles in 45 minute and ended with Fit Lesbian yelling, “I can’t do this!” She received no protests from me. We turned around and rode downhill all the way back to the car.

6) Pisgah National Forest: Since the last venture was so successful, we thought we would try another mountain which had this awesome sign to greet us:

(Bad Ass)

We climbed 2200 feet at which point I literally cried "Uncle!" It's a good thing I did too. Unbeknownst to me, Fit Lesbian had vowed to never again be the weak link. We may have ended up in Tennessee.

7) Fried chicken is the ideal recovery food.

(Fit Lesbian also enjoys eating dessert

while watching The Biggest Loser)

Sincerely,

Fat Lesbian

Who’s Afraid of a Stationary Bike? or, Fat Ego vs. a Bicycle Seat

Dear Reader,

I have a job that I love. Without getting into the boring details, essentially my job requires me to meet complete and total strangers over the phone, or in person, and make them like me. And I’m really good at it (this may be Fat Ego talking, but it’s working for us).

So far, my job has taken me to such dream boat destinations as Mobile, Alabama; Oklahoma City, Oklahoma; Plano, Texas; Reno, Nevada; and King of Prussia, Pennsylvania. I know - you’re jealous. In my travels to this point the last place you would find me was a windowless hotel basement on a treadmill. Most of the time I was furiously scouring Yelp.com while endlessly expanding my search area for reviews from stray foodies who found themselves in unfamiliar lands.

Round 1: Fat Lesbian vs. Houston

For the first time, I have a reason to venture into the complimentary facilities. I don’t want to lose whatever muscle or endurance or whatever that I have gained while Bivnard and I are on forced separation. This is how, on my most recent visit to TX, I found myself overlooking the Houston skyline from the seat of a robot bicycle. The robot was personable enough, but was a little demanding for a first date.  “Pedal faster. Enter Weight. Beep bop boop.” 

Once we dispensed with the pleasantries, we settled in to watch a Wheel of Fortune marathon. I opted for the maximum distraction possible and listened to a podcast while watching. I don’t get the clues any faster when I’m actually listening to the show, as it turns out. 80 minutes later, I had worked my butt off and was wiping down my date wondering what I had been so afraid of.

Round 2: Fat Lesbian vs. Dallas

New day, new hotel. The gym is in its own separate building, so I walk over ready for a second date since they all look alike anyway, and discover a spinning class is starting in 5 minutes. A little back story on this:  the last time I went to a spinning class was at the behest of Fit Lesbian and her budding cycling fixation. She took me to a spinning “studio” which was actually a walk-in closet painted black and crammed with 14 stationary bicycles. There was literally not enough room to walk between the bikes if people were on them.  Once you were in, you were there for the entire terrifying ride. To add to the experience, the latest innovation in “stationary” bikes is that they sway side to side. This is intended to simulate the feeling of riding around turns, but if the bikes are placed too close together and you are not in sync with your neighbors (or can’t keep up) you run the risk of bumping sweaty body parts, and that’s no fun for anyone. I wedged myself into the corner, adjusted my bike as much I could knowing zero about bicycles that don’t move, and only a smidge more about those that do. The class room filled to capacity, the lights went down, and the music went up. By the time I was done, I was covered in other people’s bodily fluids and knew I would never sit down ever again.

Luckily, Fat Ego also tells me I am brave, so I signed up for my second spinning class. Since everything is bigger in Texas, the bikes were about 2 feet apart, and clearly took the term “stationary” at face value, no swaying. The instructor helped me adjust my bike, and I made it feel as close to riding Bivnard as I could. We did hills, sprints, hilly sprints, and the entire time the instructor helped us with our form, made sure we weren’t going into cardiac arrest, and even cracked a few jokes. I spun for an hour, and am happy to report that I am writing this entry in a seated position. Spinning: Conquered.

Success!!!

Sincerely,

Fat Lesbian

Twins!, or Engineers Should Care About My Elbows

Dear Reader,

Greetings from Texas! I have so much news to share with you:

1. We adopted twins!

(Meet Muffy and Buffy)

Fit Lesbian and I just acquired a pair of Raleigh Twenties. Apparently they belonged to a set of spinster twins who owned them since the seventies.  We’re going to clean them up and use them as our “around town” rides. Stay tuned for the DIY awesomeness to ensue.

2. I had my first run-in with the dreaded Toe Overlap. Toe overlap is a design flaw mostly in lady bikes where your toe can overlap your tire when you are making a sharp turn resulting in this:

 (Mom, don't look, I'm totally fine)

Fit Lesbian warned me about this early in our bike riding adventures, but I was then distracted by something shiny and forgot about it entirely. Everything on the interwebs says this happens during low speed sharp turns. LIES. This assumes that the ladies aren't trying to burn though sharp turns at high speeds. I like to power through turns, whether I'm on a snowboard, driving someone else's car, or riding on my bike. If we can fly a man to the moon, we can make bikes for women that do not have such basic engineering flaws. If this was a problem in men’s bikes, you can be sure it wouldn’t be a problem for long…I'll be getting off my soap box now.

Coming up: Travel and the Art of Not Eating Fried Chicken at Every Meal, as well as Can Fat and Fit Out-Pedal a Hillbilly? Hill Training in the Mountains of North Carolina.

Sincerely,
Fat Lesbian

Fat gets Fitted, or Resistance Is Futile

Dear Reader,

Yesterday, after a very long week and a surprise 4:00-on-a-Friday-afternoon meeting which ran long, I stumbled into my local bike store 20 minutes late for my road cycle fitting session. I did call first to let them know that I was running behind, but this clearly made no difference to the bald man whose job it was to make Bivnard and I a seamless cyborg of road burning fury. Jack was his name, and his eyes told me that I was the only thing standing between him and the end of his shift.

For those of you who don’t know, there are approximately 5 zillion tiny points of adjustment that can be made to a bicycle so that it perfectly matches its rider’s anatomy. The bike fitting is when a bike mechanic meticulously adjusts each one of them by hand while you pedal in place in their basement. This is usually about $100, but since I had bought the bike from the folks who were doing the fitting, it was going to be half price.

I was late but I had come prepared. I had my bike shorts on under my jeans, my new bike shoes, cleats, and pedals. I even brought my helmet in case he told me to go play in traffic. Fit Lesbian and I followed Jack into the depths of the bike fitting dungeon (always bring a buddy) where he put Bivnard on a trainer and surveyed the situation. As I shed my jeans, he informed me that there would be an additional $50 fee for also fitting my shoes to my bike.

Fat Lesbian (pants around ankles): “But don’t I need the cleats and shoes and everything to get the rest of the bike fitted?”

Jack: “Yes. You need your feet to sit correctly so that your seat is in the right place, and then we can adjust you handle bars.”

Fat Lesbian: “Then why isn’t it part of the fitting? Is this negotiable?”

Jack: “No.”

This is when I realized that bike shops, like car mechanics and dentists, have no qualms about blatantly gouging their customers. Thankfully Fit Lesbian was able to whisper reason into my ear and talk me down from my pillar pantless of indignation. So after grudgingly agreeing to this obvious bait and switch, I stepped out of my jeans, and gave in to the process. Jack fit my cleats to my shoes, my shoes to my pedals, and the rest of me to my bike. It took just over an hour and was probably the best $100 I could have spent. We have been assimilated.

 

Sincerely,

Fat Lesbian

P.S. I’ve learned how to use blogger a little bit better! Check out the nifty social sharing stuff on the side bar to my left (your right).

The November Project and The Wall of Shame

Dear Reader,

This morning as the sun was yawning awake, and I was still sound asleep in my awesome bed, Fit Lesbian was putting the majority of the population to shame, and running up and down dozens and dozens of steps at the Harvard Stadium. She isn’t training for a marathon, or the Olympics, or a naked cross country foot race. She’s found the November Project. It’s a group of people who train and work out doing different activity-thingies around the city.

Reasons for Radness:

1.) It’s free, and that’s awesome because paying to be in a place you don’t want to be (GYM), doing something you don’t want to do (RUNNING-ON-TREADMILL) around total strangers sucks.

2.) There are all different fitness levels, and a bunch of the folks there are trainers so if you have questions they can help, and if you pass out or have a heart attack they will call an ambulance for you.

3.) They have a Wall of Shame, so if you say you are going to show up and you bail, everyone can give you shit publicly. That’s the way communities are built.

We are so used to the food, fashion, and fitness industries making money off people who want desperately to better themselves, to get healthier and happier. It is refreshing to see professionals and couch potatoes alike rallying to take matters into their own hands. Even if I don’t join it, I definitely respect it. And I’ll probably still visit the Wall of Shame, because who doesn’t love a public spanking?

Sincerely,

Fat Lesbian

The Results Show, or Grandmother Watches NASCAR for the Crashes

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the results show!

In the interest of full disclosure I need to tell you now that we only went 24 miles today instead of the proposed 40. Excuses are as follows:

1.)  It was hot as balls outside today, so we waited to leave until about 5:30 to leave the house. It was still 93 degrees at that point, but it cooled down fast as the sun set…romantically.

2.)  Fit Lesbian went to a 2 hour paddleboarding yoga class this morning which looks like this:

 (because yoga should be harder)

We bought a bunch of cards with little route maps that run around Boston. Given the limited daylight we picked a short ride that promised to be “flat with rolling hills.” I’m positive those hills were deemed "rolling" by someone in a car, and halfway up the third climb in the first 5 miles, I hopped off my bike and hoofed it up instead. But this was the only set back.

The rest of the ride went like this!

 (Fat Lesbian Left, Fit Lesbian Right)

The Stats:

Miles: 24

Avg. MPH: 12

Top Speed: 44.7!

 And we ended the night with this:

Fun Fact: My Grandmother watches NASCAR for the crashes, and that is exactly why I am watching the Tour de France (shown above).

This week you can look forward to adventures in clip-in pedals, hill climbing: take 2, and maybe we will get to that 40 mile ride after-all. I can't wait to share it with you!

Sincerely, 

Fat Lesbian

Follow the Leader, or 100 Miles for What?

Dear Reader,

I quit coffee about a year ago.  If you ask me why, I’ll most often respond by saying it’s a healthy choice, the spike and fall in energy was getting to me, or something of the like. The real reason is that my wife (Fit Lesbian) woke up one day and said she was quitting, and I followed suit. There was no underlying reason on my part, and it wasn’t until about 3 weeks later that I bothered to ask her why. I don’t remember the reason she gave, but the point is I’m a bit of a follower.

Approximately the same storyline repeated itself recently which resulted in the purchase of my first road bike – a 44 inch Bianchi Via Naroni 7 Dama 105, or as I like to call her, Bivnard.  

 (Fat Lesbian, Bivnard, & Chubby Puppy)

I don’t know if any of you have experienced this in your relationships, but Fit Lesbian and I have always struggled to find a recreational athletic activity that we could enjoy together. 

The following is a list of sports we have tried together, and the reasons they did not work out:

1.)  Yoga: A passion of Fit Lesbian’s for over a decade. I practiced for about a year, got to a really tough place which led to a hormonally induced crying fit on my mat, and never went back.

2.)    Boxing: This was a Groupon related incident which ended with me giggling involuntarily every time I got hit, and Fit Lesbian being exceedingly frustrated with my lack of discipline. Plus, the gym smelled awful, so we quit.

3.)    Rock Climbing: Given the most basic knowledge of weights and counter-weights, this sport deeply terrified me.

4.)    Running: We began together, Fit Lesbian injured herself, recovered, and was then able to out-pace me. I ran a 5K, then quit grumbling about not running together so what was the point, etc.

5.)    Zumba: Fit Lesbian will only go to classes, but feels silly and like she has no rhythm. I will only play on the Wii and totally have rhythm. Once again, the stars do not align.

6.)    Pogo Stilting: I refused.

Enter road cycling, the perfect storm for couple sports. You can spend time together, alternate pushing yourself with cruising along and chatting, you can plan your trip around food related destinations, you both get a healthy dose of endorphins, and when you are done, you sleep like you are dead (not the living dead or undead, the dead dead)!

We have set a goal for ourselves: ride a century (a 100 mile bike ride) for a good cause. Tomorrow we are taking our first serious ride to start training, a 40 mile loop around some of the suburbs of Boston.

I’ll be posting on how things went so stay tuned, and wish us luck!

Sincerely,

Fat Lesbian

Omnia Vanitas, or 60 is the new 40

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Fat Lesbian; a blog for the queer, the proud, and the somewhat flawed.

I'm turning 30 this year, so obviously my thoughts have turned to my imminent demise. This is not to say my life is over (I just read 60 is the new 40, which means I'll probably retire at 87). It does mean I've begun to think about what I have done, and what I want to leave behind. So far my legacy consists of a 4x4 foot painting of an elephant which sits over my desk...

And since I can't create a vampire progeny to carry on the blood line, I'm looking to increase my holdings. Ultimately, I would like my paintings to be worth thousands when I'm dead, but before I achieve recognizable dead artist status, I'm going to try to do some good. How? Well that's the sand in the panties.

Ideas for improving the world (to varying degrees):

3.) Create life changing volunteer organization that brings mentoring, life skills, and the arts to underprivileged queer youth.
2.) Wash out the dog food and peanut butter jars before I put them in the recycling.
1.) Complete a 100 mile bike ride to raise money for an as-of-yet-undetermined good cause.

Numbers 1 and 2 I'm totally doing. Number 3 is a long term goal.

In the meantime, I will be sharing my experiences being queer in corporate, learning to road cycle, and offering general commentary on the world as we know it.

I can't wait to get started!

Sincerely,
Fat Lesbian