The pros: you can pretty much eat whatever you want at the evening's Super Bowl party.
The cons: everything else.
Since you know me, I'm sure it'll come as no surprise that I jumped at the chance to share in the sheer awfulness of the idea. It might surprise you that I'm not the only one. Crazy people all over the country have signed on to the insanity. And since misery loves company, I'd love to welcome you to the nuthouse. Do join us on February 5.
The rules? There are no rules. You can ride inside or outside. You can ride alone or with company. You don't have a trainer? Borrow one. You don't have a friend with a trainer? Get new friends...or come up with a suitably awful challenge so that you aren't left out. Some alternate ideas so far...
- 31 miles on a treadmill
- 150 pull ups (not sure if it's the diapers or the arm-strengthener, but either was it's got to suck)
- 1,000 air squats
- 150 donuts
It truly sounds grueling to me. I haven't been on my road bike since the private half-ironman in October, and I have to run 6 miles for my 50K training program after the Super Century. In a somewhat cruel twist, Sunday's weather looks like it would be somewhat OK for riding outside, but somehow the sheer awfulness of the trainer component is what makes the whole thing worth doing for me. Plus, you know, the opportunity to add my own notes to the symphony of pain that's going to be blasting bright and early on Sunday.
If you're in, let me know. If you think we're crazy, let me know that, too. C'mon...you know you wanna...and if you don't wanna but do anyway, even better. :)