I did a lousy job getting physically ready for The Walk, so this time I thought I should do some sort of training. Nothing serious, just enough gym time so my man boobs wouldnt shake when I drove over a speed bump.
So I joined a Spin Class at my gym with my friend from work Mooney.
I got there 15 mins before the class was supposed to start and already there were people warming up. Mooney and I got two bikes all the way in the back row and in a corner. As it got closer to start time the room quickly filled up. The crowd was mostly female, all in way better shape then me. Everyone was in spandex and tanktops while I opted for baggy Old Navy sweatpants and t-shirt from my favorite college bar.
Enter the spin instructor. A woman in her late thirties who resembled Tony Little, but with bigger legs. She introduced herself as Dawn and judging from over the top excitement she was not on her meds that night. As we warmed up to begin she signaled me out to the rest of the class that my handlebars were too high and told me to adjust. I have trouble sharpening a pencil, and this proved to be a bit of a challenge. Dawn assumed her position on a mini stage and go her I-Pod ready and I fumbled with the handle bars. "Ready?", she called down to me from her Athletic Olympus. Sure thing Dawn!!.
So we all got our feet moving for our first mountain. As I got ready for position "2" my handlebars fly off and I almost hit my chin on the bike. The women next to me looked at me, and if she could drag her bike further away she would have. I had to get off and adjust. Dawn called down some encouragement, but if this was an actual race the chase car would have picked me up and handed me a Big Wheel to finish.
After that it wasnt that bad. Dawn sang along to the tunes. A good amount of Gwen Stefani and Pink. A country song was played proclaiming how nice it was to be a country girl, I attempted to relate but losing my virginity in a Wal Mart parking lot kind of lost me. 15 minuted into the ride I burped and realized that Subway on the way to Spin Class was a bad choice. Dawn called out to me and said I looked great, I silently prayed that the disco light above her would crush her like the Wicked Witch that she was.
My view of the man with the very tight ass was alright for a little bit, then I would look around the room and wonder if anyone realized how stupid we looked. Dawn told us about hills and valleys and I didnt see them but got concerned over mountain lions and falling rocks.
When all was said and done my ass killed, I was drenched but felt pretty good. Dawn asked if I would go back next week, I said only if there was more Gwen next time.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
It's like learning to ride a bike...Literally.
Listen: Sorry if I'm offending anyone by being the first to post...about 5 months before we leave. But I think letting people get to know a little bit about us will help bring in donations. We'll be humans instead of a hyperlink...
Here's the story of how I learned to ride a bike.
It all started when I was 14.
That's right...14.
Most kids are dreaming of a first car and I was just learning how to ride a bike.
I kind of missed the boat on learning to ride, because I was always about two years behind in my development according to baby books. I talked late (first word was 3 syllables though..worth the wait I think), I walked late, and yes I even potty trained late. So it was only natural that I not learn how to ride a bike so late in life also. Basically what happened was a few of my friends liked to ride bikes to each others houses and I became an impediment seeing as how I didn't know how. Their only options were to teach me how to ride OR no longer be my friend. They originally opted not to be my friends, but my loving mother bribed them with candy (my mom was notorious for this during middle school [not really, she only did it one other time {that story will have to wait}]). I endured the sterotypical bike riding regiment. My friend would hold the back of the bike as we slowly rolled down the street. I sooned gained some confidence as he promised he wouldn't let go. And then one time, you guessed it, he let go. When I turned around to make sure he was still holding on, and found him half a mile back, I panicked; hit the curb; and went head over heels onto some strangers lawn. I suffered some bumps and bruises with the biggest injury dealt to my ego. However, I got back on the bike and kept on trying, unlike Michelle Tanner who held a grudge against Uncle Joey for days after she fell into a bush.
Regardless, I eventually learned how to ride, my friend got his candy and my first bike looked like a tangerine on crack. It was so embarassing to ride that it eventually rusted up, after maybe 2 rides. Fortunately for me, remembering how to ride a bike is easy. So when I got my second bike 11 years later for Christmas, I still had it.
And there you have it, with MAYBE a total of 15 bike rides in the course of my lie under my belt I'm obviously qualified for this expedition to Beantown.
John, Alex, Liz...I hope at least one of you is an expert in first aid!
So it goes.
Here's the story of how I learned to ride a bike.
It all started when I was 14.
That's right...14.
Most kids are dreaming of a first car and I was just learning how to ride a bike.
I kind of missed the boat on learning to ride, because I was always about two years behind in my development according to baby books. I talked late (first word was 3 syllables though..worth the wait I think), I walked late, and yes I even potty trained late. So it was only natural that I not learn how to ride a bike so late in life also. Basically what happened was a few of my friends liked to ride bikes to each others houses and I became an impediment seeing as how I didn't know how. Their only options were to teach me how to ride OR no longer be my friend. They originally opted not to be my friends, but my loving mother bribed them with candy (my mom was notorious for this during middle school [not really, she only did it one other time {that story will have to wait}]). I endured the sterotypical bike riding regiment. My friend would hold the back of the bike as we slowly rolled down the street. I sooned gained some confidence as he promised he wouldn't let go. And then one time, you guessed it, he let go. When I turned around to make sure he was still holding on, and found him half a mile back, I panicked; hit the curb; and went head over heels onto some strangers lawn. I suffered some bumps and bruises with the biggest injury dealt to my ego. However, I got back on the bike and kept on trying, unlike Michelle Tanner who held a grudge against Uncle Joey for days after she fell into a bush.
Regardless, I eventually learned how to ride, my friend got his candy and my first bike looked like a tangerine on crack. It was so embarassing to ride that it eventually rusted up, after maybe 2 rides. Fortunately for me, remembering how to ride a bike is easy. So when I got my second bike 11 years later for Christmas, I still had it.
And there you have it, with MAYBE a total of 15 bike rides in the course of my lie under my belt I'm obviously qualified for this expedition to Beantown.
John, Alex, Liz...I hope at least one of you is an expert in first aid!
So it goes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
