Enjoy The Ride

bikes 2

I’m gonna let you in on a little secret.

I’m not very athletic.

I’m not even a LITTLE athletic.

I know….

Your shocked!

But in full disclosure, I let the Mr. in on this little tidbit early on in our marriage.

Of course, I waited until we were married just in case it was a deal breaker for him.  🙂

He’s known for a long time now that any sort of physical activity, especially outside, just doesn’t work into my fitness plan.

My favorite workout is changing channels with the remote control.

That’s why it’s funny to me when he seems surprised that I don’t want to do athletic things.

Has he just met me???

A couple of years ago, when we still lived in NY, he convinced me in a weak moment to go bike riding with his brother, Mark.

Now Mark wasn’t as easily fooled as the Mr.

Or was the Mr. fooled at all??

Maybe I was such a catch that he didn’t want to risk me getting away.

Of course, since I’m so athletic, there’s little chance I could outrun him.

I’m fairly easy to catch!

But Mark found out way before he married Alyssa that she was in fact athletic and liked to do outdoorsy things.

I mean, these people barely even watch TV.

How can we possibly be related???

So I reluctantly agreed to go for the bike ride at the waterfront in Buffalo.  Mostly because I thought I could outwit the Mr.

How could I possibly go bike riding without a bike?????

No problem, said my extremely excited husband, you can ride Brian’s old bike.


But again, I thought I had him.

Brian’s old bike was actually bought for Brian when he was in elementary school.

How could a woman, fully-growed, possibly ride a kid’s bike???

No problem, said the optimistic Mr., you’re the same height that Brian was when he used this bike.

Daggone it!!

One more shot…………I’m slightly heavier than Brian was (and is) so the bike will surely buckle under the weight.

No problem, said my now grumpy husband who had by this point figured out my scheme, this bike is nice and sturdy with big fat tires.


So I resorted to the only other thing I could think of.


I prayed and prayed for rain on that Saturday.  I think I may have even done a rain dance but the day dawned bright and sunny with a nice breeze.  Perfect for a bike ride along the lake.

So I decided to put on my happy face and just enjoy it……..is what I SHOULD have done.

What I ACTUALLY did was gripe and complain and stomp around in the most ugliest of displays.  Me-maw would have surely flipped me for my rotten attitude.

And that poor Mr.

He had to drag along this pitiful excuse of a Southern lady.

So we met up with Mark and Alyssa and their oh so sweet daughter, Sarah, and we started to ride.

I kept reminding the Mr. in my sweetest, most loving voice to not get too close as I wobbled my way along the lakeshore.

And by sweetest, most loving voice, I mean that I was shrieking like a crazy woman!

I know…..I’m a joy.

But somewhere along the way, I started to enjoy myself.

Maybe it was the lake breeze.

Maybe it was the company.

Maybe it was the way I didn’t crash myself.

Whatever the reason, by the end of that ride I was ready for my own bike!

And that sweet Mr. of mine got me my own purple bike for my birthday that summer.

Of course, I had to get a different seat.  I asked the salesman if I could get a tractor seat or maybe a big ole bean bag seat but they didn’t have anything that big so I got the biggest one they make.

A few weeks ago the Mr. finally bought himself a new bike.  It’s really nice and he was so excited.  He’s been bugging me ever since to go riding and I’ve put  him off every time.

But last night I caved.

As soon as supper was over he was ready to go.  I was feeling a little full but wanted to be a good wife (for once) so I said I was ready.

The neighborhood that we live in is called Indian Hills.  All the streets are named after Indian tribes.  There’s Commanche, Chickasaw, Seminole, Creek, Iroquois, Chinook and even Ojibwa and Kickapoo.

But the Indian name is not the most important part of the name.

It’s called Indian Hills.

Indian HILLS.


And there’s a good reason for that.

It’s right at a mile from my house to Molly’s house.

A mile is easy on a bike.

No problemo.

But it’s Indian HILLS!!!!

By the time we got up the first hill I was thinking that my supper was going to make another appearance.

I was huffin’ and puffin’ and if there hadn’t been so many red dots flashing in front of my eyes I probably would have pushed the Mr. over as he was riding circles around me in the most vulture-esque way.

We finally made it to Molly’s and after collapsing on her front walk for about half an hour, we made the trek back home.

Sadly, I had to push my bike up that last hill, but I did it.

I rode through Indian Hills!

I can’t walk this morning, but I did it.

And that’s what counts. 🙂




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