After three 70 degree days of sun and gentle breezes, I’ve got tan lines on my arms and legs. Yesterday’s 85 mile ride out to Hannover left me feeling like spring had finally arrived. Today the snow is falling; it’s thirty and a winter storm warning has caused me to cancel my visit to the vomitron in Denver. I feel bad about that. I was scheduled to take a VO2-max test as part of the bone density study I’m participating in. During my last visit in January, I found out what my fat percentage was (it’s not good). I still hold out hope that with the machine snipping off my scalp and the bottoms of my feet (it was inexplicably made for people shorter than me), that somehow my fat percentage is lower.
I doubt the vomitron would have any wiggle room in determining my aerobic capacity. I thought about this yesterday in the middle of my ride, contemplating the horizon line of sage brush and browned grass, would finding out ‘my number’ actually help me or hurt me? Would it be better to labor under the illusion of superior aerobic capacity, than find out that I have all of the innate endurance talent of a chain-smoking couch potato?
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