New Hobby.

We started a new family hobby. I will admit the momentum has died down a little for me since the weather has turned but I am still totally on board with the idea.

Bike riding.

I know. The first time I put that helmet on my head and looked in the mirror at Race Pace I felt it too. I looked at my naked face, crow’s feet around my eyes and black shiny helmet on my head and literally didn’t even recognize myself. It was like a piece of my coolness just shriveled up and died. It might have even been the very last piece I had left, I’m not sure. If you asked Chris, I lost all my coolness (and turned ninety) the year I bought my gray cable-knit grandpa sweater from target. Which, by the way I still adore. But seriously, I might as well drive a minivan, no offense to people who drive minivans, but it’s a stereotype and wearing that black shiny helmet, I certainly felt it.

 (like his unicorn nipples?)

Anyway, long story short, we went camping and everyone had bikes so it became a thing. We have no place to ride bikes at our house but we bought them anyway. Actually, I stole my moms bike, thanks mom! This shiz is hard too. It’s not like when I was young and would go jumping curbs and maneuvering around like a professional. Um. No, I’m lucky to stay on the damn thing and I kid you not my groin was so sore the next day it was mystifying. I tried twice to unsuccessfully ride this damn bike up the driveway too.  I can’t even get to the neighborhood! It was like I was breathing in flames from the depths of hell. I clearly have some serious cardio issues. And I don’t know if this is an issue because I’m used to driving a car but I need some rear view mirrors, I don’t like that I can’t see what’s behind me AND I’m not stable enough on the stupid bike to be able to easily turn around and just look. It’s like when you prematurely turn off the basement lights, then start heading up the stairs and every scene from every scary movie where the chick gets her ankles grabbed and drug back into the basement start flashing in your minds eye, and you just start running up the stairs like a bat out of hell, maybe even getting a bit too crazy and trying to jump the steps two-at-a time because YOU JUST KNOW that DEMON that lives in the basement is going to GRAB YOUR DAMN ANKLES AND DRAG YOU BACK DOWN. Even my kids don’t go down our basement by themselves, they know what’s up, and it’s not like I ever told them about that demon, and they certainly haven’t seen any of those scary movies. It’s instinctual. Anyway, I almost died doing that shit, never again. No, no silly, not running up the stairs, although I’ve almost died multiple times doing that, I get so crazed that I start trying to do those double steps and I literally have like no muscles anymore so I’m bouncing off the walls and fumbling for the hand rail, I’ve slipped before and it just might be the death of me one day. But this certain near death instance was from the bicycle, we went full throttle on our first bike ride, obviously right? Who doesn’t feel like a professional after purchasing all the prof gear. We rode like 6 thousand miles. I could hardly walk after. I think I’m done for the season though, it’s a spring/summer sport, right? I need to get back into some spin classes to practice on those bikes that don’t fall over. And I need to work on my cardio like majorly. And I might as well hit myself in the crotch with a bat daily for like a year to toughen that area up because those seats are just miserable. And I realllllly HAVE to remember to leave the lights on until I get to the TOP of the basement stairs. That’s why the switch is there. Why don’t I remember that? I think I must like the thrill.

your welcome for this image, now we will all have this vision while we are running.