Early this am I made a call to my Poquito. He’s rehabbing a replaced shoulder last month and two knee replacements done in December and October. He was gasping for air as he answered my call. “I’m on the bike,” he exclaimed with much joy. He was 40 minutes into a 45 minute Peloton ride, he told me emphatically. This is the dude that crushes us on the pelly and on the road. He’s 65 and rides like he’s 25, puts out 200-300 watts from a frame that weighs 144 dripping wet. He’s powerful.
Today, he’s putting out 80 and smiling. He’s dripping in sweat. On the red line. Hurting in the best of ways and swallowing his pride. I mean 80 watts is nothing to a healthy version of him.
This is why we’re soft and fat, America.
Our ego gets in the way. We stop pushing and settle for reminiscing instead. We put it on others and put pounds on ourselves. Not Poquito. He was so happy to tell me the truth about his hurting body and how much he can’t wait to get outside with the 3PP gang and get after it. I gotta tell you, it made me pick up the pace on my little walk/run this morning. Poquito is not winding down and slowly accepting his fate. Poquito is fighting entropy. You?
LIVE hard. Love harder…