The unintended (sort of) consequences of losing weight

My number one goal in trying to lose weight, it so make myself more attractive.  After all, Maria Sharapova is a professional athlete.  She's not going to be interested in dating some guy who doesn't have a rock-solid physique.  Deep down inside, I know that a little bit of stomach fat isn't what's stopping me from dating a 10 like Maria.  Me is what's stopping me.  And the fact that she doesn't even know me.  But there are other non-Marias out there, and while they might not be as Maria-y, they will still insist upon nothing but perfection from my abs.  And so I must drop weight.

But I know that's not true.  And so alternatively, I tell myself that I'm trying to drop weight so that I'll be faster at cycling.  That is true.  When it comes to racing bikes: skinny rules.  Lance Armstrong even gave himself cancer so he could drop that extra weight.  And it worked.  I don't know if I have the talent to make it worth investing in cancer, but winning some local races would certainly be possible if I could get to 145 pounds.  But I wasn't counting on how much losing weight would accelerate my cycling training.

Losing weight is very much a test of willpower, and willpower is hard.  If the Catholic Church was still selling indulgences, I would buy them by the dozen.  But that ass Martin Luther had to put a stop to that, so now I've got to do penance.  An extra bagel at breakfast?  Better go for a run!  Mid-afternoon snack?  Better hit the weight room!  Trip to the frozen yogurt shop?  Looks like that "easy ride" I had planned is going to turn into a hard ride.  As my willpower has been faltering, I've been getting in 2-3 workouts per day for the past week or two.

My legs feel great right now.  No, that's not true.  My legs feel awful right now.  They're pretty much in a permanent state of distress from all this exercise, but I'm getting faster.  Right now it's only January--there's still a month before the first races of the season, and I think I've as fast as I've ever been right now.  If I can keep this up until the summer races that I actually care about, I think I'll be in good shape.  In fact, I might have to set a new weight target of 140 pounds--not that I think I'll ever get there, but the punishment I give myself as I fail to meet my weight goals will surely make me even faster.

And why do I want to be fast?  To impress Maria Sharapova, of course (sorry, but I've been watching the Australian Open final while I type this).