I started a new biking regimen today because I have been having more foot troubles. What am I? 80? I swear I feel like it sometimes.
Anyway, in an attempt to allow my foot to heal, I have decided to nix the aerobics for the time being. However, not willing to lose momentum in my weight loss, (ie: not willing to gain back the measly 3 pounds I have managed to lose in the last 4 months) I knew I had to do some form of exercise. As I don't like to put my face in water, biking won out.
So, this afternoon, I packed Charlotte up in the bike trailer with a container of snacks (for her) and plenty of water, and off we went on a biking adventure. I decided to bike through our cemetery since it was the only place I could think of where there were no cars, and therefore few witnesses to my gracelessness. Well, unless you count any ghosts that might be haunting the graveyard.
As I was biking, it hit me that it might be slightly morbid and possibly irreverent for me to be exercising in the resting place of so many souls. I don't know.... But, at one point as I rode down one of the extremely steep hills there, I started to call out, "Whoohoo!" and I had to stop myself. As much as I am not superstitious, I so do not want to anger some disgruntled spirit. The last thing I need in my life is a poltergeist haunting my home. We already have enough objects flying through the air, not to mention items that mysteriously disappear (dang library books!), thank you very much.
Anyway, as I mentioned, there are a lot of hills in this cemetery---really steep hills, close to the size of what I imagine Mt. Everest to be. Let's just say that I had to walk and push my bike up most of the hills, while Charlotte lounged in the trailer commenting on how slow we were going in between bites of Goldfish crackers. Hey, before you judge, tell me when the last time you dragged 50 pounds of kid and trailer behind your bike. I swear, that trailer and my daughter were practically pulling me backwards on the hills. At one point, I thought we were done for, that we would roll backwards, picking up speed until we crashed into some 100 year old tombstone. So, walking up the hills was the only way to avoid certain death.
One plus about riding (or scaling hills, as the case may be) in a cemetery is there is plenty of reading material to peruse as you crawl by. I was busy reading names of all these interesting dead folks when the thought hit me, "Why did I bother to bring my bike on this trip if I was going to have to walk up all the hills?"
Well, so that when I actually did ride the bike, the breeze could dry off some of the sweat that was dripping down my face, maybe?