Yesterday I got a sign from God. A sign that said, "stop eating Oreo cake and get on your bike." I dropped a paper on the floor in my office, bent down to pick it up, and... I RIPPED THE LINING OF MY DRESS. Hey, I know I indulged a bit after Ironman, but don't you think that's a little extreme? I burned at least a week's worth of calories on June 24th, right? Can't we save my rear and thighs busting out of my clothes for next week if I continue down this path?
Alas, it's too late. Time to put the cake away and dust off the bike for some bike commuting (and I mean, dust off the bike - I meant to clean my roadbike since it's full of mud from a messy commute weeks ago, but I got lazy).