weekend cycling soliloquy

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With a little help from good old Billy Wagglestick, this happened while I should have been working lol. Thought I may as well share it!

Now is the winter of my battered Taint
Made glorious summer by this pack of ice;
And all the pain that lou'rd upon my thighs
In the deep bosom of ibuprofen buried.
Now is my brow bound with a sunburned stripe;
My bruised arms hung down for exhaustion;
My alarum'd stern changed to merry meeting,
My dreadful haunch to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged cycling hath smoothed my wrinkled front
And now, instead of mounting handled bars
To fright the souls of fearful pedestrians,
I caper nimbly in my lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of the pink flute.
But I, that am not shaped for sporty tricks,
Nor made for amorous racquet courts,
I, that am rudely stamped and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanting, athletics judge;
I that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of fitness by lethargic nature,
Deformed, unfinish'd, old before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half dressed,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I pedal by them;
Why, I, in this weekly cycling time of stress,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on my own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove an athlete,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a fat git
And hate the exercises of these days.
Plots have I laid, regimes dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, dumbells and dreams,
To set my obesity, belly and the mind
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if my motivation be as true and just
As my efforts, false and treacherous,
This day should dinner closely be spewed up,
About my group of friends that say that "he"
Of sporting efforts the murderer shall be.