Introducing the Cold Beer Diet

From time to time a few ideas get accidentally whooshed into my brain much as a leaf might accidentally blow into the clothes dryer. There’s nothing for them to do once inside but get tumbled around with the underpants. There’s one in there now, and the only remedy is to talk about it.

Before I go any farther, let me start by saying that I am not a doctor. I do not own a stethoscope or a white coat. I do not have any university degrees or any medical training whatsoever. Listening to what I am about to say could cause your face to explode and a gang of parakeets dressed as old-timey businessmen to attack your nipples.

Running To Stand Still

Here’s the thing: A lot of people think that losing weight is all about exercise. I did too. Why do you think I did all the endurance races I did, because I wanted everyone to see my love handles jiggle? No. It was because I wanted to eat whatever I wanted and still lose weight. I was wrong to think it would work.

I used to think that cyclists were thin because they rode bikes all the time, that marathoners were thin because they ran all the time, or that triathletes were shiny because they were covered in Pam. Well, I was right about the Pam, but I think that athletes gravitate toward sports that they are good at. I don’t think their chosen sport molds them.

I’m on the Cold Beer Diet

See what I’m saying here? I was wrong to think that if I did two workouts a day I would be thin. Of course it helped, but I should have exercised less and watched my diet more.

I still love riding bikes, but I have to watch my diet too. It’s hard, though. Just think of all those poor, delicious, cold draught beers out there. They’re not gonna drink themselves, people.

Of course, this diet has its side effects. Cheryl says I fell off a piano bench on Saturday, and my sunglasses are missing, but I don’t remember either so they don’t count.