Sadly it was not one of those heavy, polished butcher blocks from Ikea or Crate & Barrel. I did have to step around - or over - it every time I moved from my stove to my sink, or basically every time I crossed to the left side of my kitchen from the right, and to shove it aside slightly every time I opened the refrigerator. But it was not as heavy (thank goodness!) as a Crate & Barrel butcher block and significantly (!) more expensive than Ikea furniture. And definitely NOT beige.
It was hard, black plastic and contained...The Stallion, my trusty carbon steed. As well as my real trophy from Ironman Cozumel:
|My Post-Race "Recovery" Drink: a YARD of nasty margarita|
However, as of today, my kitchen is island-free. Now The Stallion occupies the trainer and the road bike is relegated back to commuting and roadie group rides.
Not to worry, there has been training occurring on the trainer prior to this auspicious day of home-improvement. But it was low season and while specificity in training is important, banging out z2 rides in December bent over in a tight, air-cheating position in the wind-less environment of my living room isn't very specific to anything. Except maybe tearing up the under-carriage and corroding the components of my head set.
And training to spend hours folding my body like origami onto a bike isn't necessary either. I tell people that your aero position should be comfortable, never a stretch, literally, to get into, and my bike fitter, David at Elite in Philly, agrees. Two months of not sitting on The Stallion and it was like not a day had gone by: aero position felt natural and effortless, like my favorite lounge chair.
The good news is that The Stallion is still black. The bad news is I think that the black is now thanks to a thick thick layer of dried nutritional product and Mexican dust.