So here I am, back in Britain, assessing the damage from my holiday! Last night I went on my first ride since returning from the United States of Americanland, and both me and my bike were feeling it. The 2 weeks has not been kind to the Burls - it would appear the bottom bracket hasn’t enjoyed sitting still as it now creaking like an OAP’s knees. However, I feel I may have come off slightly worse than the bike. I did a “steady” 10 miles - although I’m not sure how fast or slow I went as I don’t have a computer on my Burls anymore. Still, riding the bike felt completely foreign, and for the first few miles I felt pretty uneasy and actually a bit scared as the cars zipped past me and I maneuvered around pot holes and drains. I got home feeling totally knackered - this is how it felt 8 months ago when I first went outside on the bike!
Clearly, as expected, the holiday had allowed my body to significantly detrain.
My initial intention was to hire a bike whilst out there, and as a back up plan my friend offered to ship his mountain bike down to me from Indianapolis. However, both avenues would turn out to be quite expensive, and as the holiday was hanging from a shoestring budget already, this wouldn’t be possible. Besides, Florida does 2 types of bike: beach cruisers and ladies’ beach cruisers. Still, there was a pool at the condo we’d rented, and every year before this I have swam 50-60 lengths before breakfast to ensure my weight gain was minimum. Upon arriving at the condo however, the pool turned out to be what can only be described a small rectangular bath - to small in fact to swim properly in. This wasn’t looking good.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I sat on my ass for 2 weeks (although there was a great deal of sitting to be done in the USA you realise). I went swimming a couple of times in the complex where my parents were staying, there was a lot of walking done at Busch Gardens, and without a car we were limited to walking and catching the bus when traveling anywhere anyway.
I did get to ride a bike though. Of sorts.
The Rickshaw of Doom
On my birthday, we went to St Petersburg Pier. As expected being Independence Day, the pier was basically a gigantic Star Spangled Banner clad shrine to Americana and all that is super-sized and sugar coated. George Washington (obviously not the real George Washington - although I am convinced this particular George Washington was actually Kevin Kline in costume) came over to us to share in the joy of America’s independence from the British, at which point I politely pointed out that I was in fact British. Despite their (typically) over the top celebrations, the Americans aren’t bitter or unfriendly towards us Brits on Independence Day. In fact quite the opposite - they invite us to join in to celebrate what is effectively the birth day of their nation.
Outside the pier was a cycle hire place. As well as the typical collection of beach cruisers, there was a collection of 4 seater rickshaws. In an instant, the seed of the best idea I would ever had was planted. Within minutes I had convinced Suzanne, Beth, mum and dad to come on one of these rickshaws, in 92 degree heat no less! A few minutes after setting off, I realised that it wasn’t the best idea I would ever have - but still immense fun.
The family on a Rickshaw
After tearing around the roads of Northumberland on a lightweight titanium racer, grinding the rickshaw into action felt like running in wet concrete. With 4 of us pedaling (Beth was a passenger) the rickshaw took a fair amount of effort to even start, but once moving it would at least carry some momentum due to it’s weight. Within a few minutes, sweat was pouring off me, my legs were burning and I was struggling to breath. I looked across to my dad, and he looked to be in a similar state. Looking behind, both Suzanne and my mum were happily pedaling along without a care in the World - accusing me and dad of not putting any effort in! Halfway round we swapped positions so the ladies were on the front and the men on the back - and all of a sudden it was a different story. For some reason, probably due to the clutch mechanism and the system joining the front and rear chains, the front was harder to pedal than the rear. Regardless, upon returning the rickshaw, as you can I was drenched with sweat and really quite dehydrated. Quite a workout…
James after the rickshaw Tour de St Pete Pier
It took a good hour of air conditioning and Sprite Zero to cool down to a normal operating temperature for a human being and the following day I was as stiff as a board.
The Busch Gardens Weighing Game
One of our favourite places to go in Florida is Busch Gardens Africa. Essentially it’s a theme park zoo - with shows, rides and attractions for the whole family. In my opinion it’s better than the Disney parks as it’s not as plastic and fake - on top of which they are actually making an effort to educate people about the animals and act as conservationists at the same time. Within one of the sections there is an area of fun fair type sideshows (such as hook-a-duck), made up to look like a bazaar. One such sideshow was a guess-your-weight type deal, where you pay $10 (about a fiver) to (presumably) a part-time American student who in turn guesses your weight. If he/she is right (within 5lbs either way), you get nothing. If he/she is wrong, you get a cuddly toy (worth $2). The sideshow guy guessed 195lbs (around 13 and half stone)! I knew he’d guess low, as I know I don’t look as heavy as I am, and have won the game in previous years. Knowing that 17 stone is 238, I’d have been happy with anything around the 240-245 mark. I stood on the scales and the dial sprung round to 270lbs - over 19 stone!!! According to the scales, I had put on over 2 stone in less than 2 weeks. I was worried. In an attempt to relax my nerves my dad also had a go, knowing his exact weight from getting weighed in the gym. The scales were pretty much spot on with his weight.
Thankfully, on returning home I weighed myself and I had put on 7lbs. As of this morning, that was down to 4lbs. Weight wise, the damage has been minimal. Within a couple of weeks I should be lower than when I went out there, which is good. Fitness wise, I don’t have an accurate idea yet. The first indication will be on Saturday (if I have a bike of course) when we do the club ride. Cannondale lady and White Giant Woman are trying their hardest to get me to ride on Sunday too, but based on last night’s performance, this may be a bad idea. We’ll see.
So, the holiday at least proves I am human - I am not the Lance Armstrong of weight loss as it were. I could not help but be tempted by Boston Creme donuts, Kilwin’s homemade dairy ice cream, Woody’s Waterside Diner Big Fish Dinner, Baby Ruth chocolate bars, Mountain Dew, and Carvel’s vanilla chocolate twist ice cream in a novelty baseball cap shaped cup. Part of the point of a holiday anywhere is to sample the local cuisine, even if it is sugar coated and topped in whipped cream. The truth comes out when you return - can you get back on the healthy lifestyle?
So far, I have. Although I must admit, I’d kill for a Mountain Dew…