Riding Bicycles. There is something idyllic about pedaling your carefree way across town, in a pretty sundress with a basket full of daisies and a bottle of wine on the front of your turquoise beach cruiser, right? Yesterday, I needed to go pick up my car across town from
Sargent's Stereo where they had installed an iPod port for me, the only thing missing from my blingmobile. I thought, no big deal. 3-4 miles - I did that often this summer, riding to the store, or more frequently, to
Cuppa Yo, where the reward was much more worth it. Josh assured me I could make it 20 minutes "tops" since it was an easy 10-15 for him. Show off. Anyway, I waited for the outside temperature to break 45, since I am a wimp, bagged up my yoga mat with the noble intention of going to class after my two wheeled adventure. Look how athletic I am being!! I set out down the street and within 1/4 mile began to regret my optimistic decision. I will admit that part of my downfall on this fateful ride was not taking my husbands well-meaning advice and riding the longer, safer way down a less busy, less hilly, but out of the way street. I decided I was a full grown adult and could manage the traffic. And the hills, which, incidentally where NEVER there before, when I was driving my car. My fingers were numb at about 1/2 mile, which I think was also the 17 minute mark, and about the time I really started cursing my bike loving husband. As I pedalled in place up a hill that was at least 7000 feet, all I could do was mutter to myself about idiots on bicycles acting like this was fun and what a bunch of freakshows they were. I was all but obliterated by a Kia Rio that came screaming through a roundabout and into the crosswalk where I was innocently fumbling with my pedals before she locked up the brakes and skidded to a stop about 6 inches from me. I am sure she heard me cussing out Josh, because clearly ANY misfortunes on bikes are All His Fault. About 3/4 of a mile in I had come to the conclusion that I really really hate my bike. WHO in the world would choose a freaking mint green, 3,000 lb contraption with 4 lane handlebars and a 50 gallon basket hanging of the front. I looked like a behemoth 5 year old who just got off her training wheels. Lets just say balance and coordination on a bicycle aren't my strong points at this stage. I would like to take a moment to credit my mother for this un-skill, and from what I hear it's a knack she shares with my Aunt Janet as well. Mom, like me, struggles to keep a bicycle herded on a narrow path, such as a sidewalk, or a two lane highway, and any obstacle that springs up pretty much demands an all out panic and probably a crash of some sort. Imagine my dismay when my sidewalk turned into two, narrower, multi-level sidewalks that ended abruptly at a big, red fire hydrant. What choice did I have but jump both curbs and land in the busy arterial pretty much on the fender of a police car, and then fall over. Ok, I didn't fall ALL the way over, but I may as well have for the injury to my pride. I couldn't help but get really angry at the smirking motorists who witnessed my identity crisis between pedestrian and cyclist at every intersection. Crosswalk, no crosswalk? Green light with traffic or who is turning and does anybody see me on this monstrous bike? Half of me hoped they did because while I was certainly in a homicidal rage, I wasn't completely ready to die, but the other half of me was mortally embarrassed by my happy-and-carefree looking bike that was so obviously NOT any of those things. I have a chronic internal confliction about the dichotomy of bicycle laws vs. bicycle safety. Is it better to ride on the sidewalk and live or ride with traffic and certainly die?
Josh recommended I take back street A to back street B, which put me on the thoroughfare very briefly. I decided to take main street A to main street B, which changed after two near death experiences and a series of giant elevation gains to back street A, which seemed to be more or less hill-free. After pedaling/coasting for several blocks, crossing the railroad tracks twice, I realized I was going the wrong way, but since it was downhill, I didn't really care. At some point I knew I needed to get back over toward the main drag, and because I was too tired to find another legit railroad crossing, I picked up my bike (one end at a time because the thing weighs more than ghengis khan) and dragged it across the tracks in the dirt. I had half a mind to leave the stupid bicycle right there in the tracks to be destroyed by the next freight train that roared through, but decided against it since I was still formulating more gratifying demolition approaches. Most of the second half of my ride was filled with fantasies of twisted metal and snapping spokes. I wound up in neighborhood that I recognized as one Josh had recently done some remodeling in, and lost several tools to neighborhood thugs masquerading as schoolchildren. Somehow I had ended up about 5 blocks too far south, but I decided the downhill was worth it. I finally made it to my destination, sweaty, frozen, angry as heck that my husband would consider this harrowing experience "fun". No comment.
 |
| the nemesis. Don't be fooled. it isn't as innocent as it looks. |
Anyway, I survived, somehow, all 3.4 miles and 15,000 ft climb. My
RunKeeper app told me I only burned 143 calories. 143! That's like not even a cookie!! How is that possible. Sometimes I believe RunKeeper exists only to make me feel inadequate. Kind of like kids. And crappy vacuum cleaners.
I even went to yoga, mostly because I wasn't about to let the foolishness of carrying a retarded yoga mat on my back across town be for naught, and I had only burned 143 calories. I still had a scrap of pride left after all, until the yoga instructor spent 70 minutes demonstrating all of the things that my hips Will Not Do. I blame the hills. After all of my minimal-calorie-burning activities, all I could think about was a McChicken. But I was good. I drove home, I unloaded my $200 worth of Costco groceries and even the bike that I swore I would never touch again after jamming it into the back of the Yukon, and ate a little teeny cup of greek yogurt. And 16 candy corns.
We bought a new bed last weekend, and after a series of delivery faux pas, which resulted in 2 free latex pillows, it was just delivered. I am so excited to try it out. Can I just go to bed now?
