I've Said It Before
but it bears repeating. I have the sweetest boyfriend ever.
I blame it on Super Mario. If Flash hadn't started playing the Wii, I might not have insisted that we do something so crazy. But I did. Maybe it was just the cool weather, maybe it was the sense that summer is rapidly slipping by and my child is rapidly growing up that made me seize the opportunity with gusto and suggest, nay, insist that we go for a bike ride together.
The bike ride itself wasn't really the issue. It was the destination that secures my room at the insane asylum. I suggested we ride to WG's house. It's only four miles down the road, I proclaimed with confidence! Four miles is nothing. It's just that I live on a hill, and WG lives on a hill, and suffice it to say, they are not the same hill.
Flash agreed with as much confidence as I had suggested the original proposition, making me immediately aware that I hadn't thought this out very well at all. I had water, granola bars, cell phone, keys, helmets, but no sanity. Certainly the necessary muscles for peddling up the numerous hills were lacking as well.
I sent a text to WG about half way through the ride (not while riding, geez, I can barely peddle and look over my shoulder without fallling off the bike! Flash had to stop to fix his chain so I thought it was a good time to check and make sure my prince charming might be home to save me from myself.)
The second worst hill of the entire ride is the one leading up to WG's driveway. The worst hill is WG's driveway itself. Being gravel, I wasn't even about to attempt his driveway, but being winded from trying to get up the street itself, just trying to push my stupid, oldbody bike up his driveway nearly killed me.
WG met us at the top of the drive. "Are you okay?"
I think it took me five full minutes to be able to breathe well enough to actually answer him.
He declared us both mentally insane. He offered water and chairs and a chance to sit and rest. Then he fed Flash leftover lasagne and he quietly went out and put the bike rack on his Jeep. We loaded the two bikes on and he drove us home without once telling me I'm a wuss or an idiot or perhaps, quite reasonably both.
I blame it on Super Mario. If Flash hadn't started playing the Wii, I might not have insisted that we do something so crazy. But I did. Maybe it was just the cool weather, maybe it was the sense that summer is rapidly slipping by and my child is rapidly growing up that made me seize the opportunity with gusto and suggest, nay, insist that we go for a bike ride together.
The bike ride itself wasn't really the issue. It was the destination that secures my room at the insane asylum. I suggested we ride to WG's house. It's only four miles down the road, I proclaimed with confidence! Four miles is nothing. It's just that I live on a hill, and WG lives on a hill, and suffice it to say, they are not the same hill.
Flash agreed with as much confidence as I had suggested the original proposition, making me immediately aware that I hadn't thought this out very well at all. I had water, granola bars, cell phone, keys, helmets, but no sanity. Certainly the necessary muscles for peddling up the numerous hills were lacking as well.
I sent a text to WG about half way through the ride (not while riding, geez, I can barely peddle and look over my shoulder without fallling off the bike! Flash had to stop to fix his chain so I thought it was a good time to check and make sure my prince charming might be home to save me from myself.)
The second worst hill of the entire ride is the one leading up to WG's driveway. The worst hill is WG's driveway itself. Being gravel, I wasn't even about to attempt his driveway, but being winded from trying to get up the street itself, just trying to push my stupid, old
WG met us at the top of the drive. "Are you okay?"
I think it took me five full minutes to be able to breathe well enough to actually answer him.
He declared us both mentally insane. He offered water and chairs and a chance to sit and rest. Then he fed Flash leftover lasagne and he quietly went out and put the bike rack on his Jeep. We loaded the two bikes on and he drove us home without once telling me I'm a wuss or an idiot or perhaps, quite reasonably both.
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