It occured to me that I really should start with why I am riding my bike. I confess, it is not for a good reason.
Yes, I am fat and need to exercise, but that is not why I got on my bike.
Yes, I could definitely stand to have a healthier lifestyle, but that is not why I got on my bike.
Yes, My daughter begs me to ride with her and it would be a great mother-daughter activity, but that is not why I got on my bike.
I did it so that I don't die. In a moment of pure weakness, I signed up for the Tour de Cure. My dad and Hannah both have Type 1 diabetes. So, I have a great interest in finding a cure for the disease, but I could just make a donation. But, in that moment of weakness, I signed up to ride. Truly, this was my thought process. "I like to ride a bike. Remember the thrill of coasting down a hill with the wind blowing my hair back? That was cool. I can do 10 miles. It's not that far."
THEN, IN A MOMENT OF PURE INSANITY, I said (to myself), "I could do 27. Its not that much further." (Obviously math is not my strong suit.) And suddenly without even realizing it, I had committed my fat body to riding 27 miles while sitting on a very small seat AND (with dreams of coasting in my head), I forgot that the prerequisite to coasting is PEDALING! That involves activity, perseverance, and exercise. I am allergic to exercise. Really and trully. I break out into a sweat, breathe heavily, and get all hot. Obvious signs of an allergy.
So, now here I am committed to dying and I am planning my funeral, and I thought, "hmmm....maybe I could, like work up to it. Like train." So, in my innocence (or ignorance), I decided to start yesterday. No forethought. Another impulsive moment. Didn't check out my bike. Honestly thought "oh, the dust will blow away while I ride."
Ever have this thought...."I am an idiot."??? I had this thought at the end of the driveway, and here is the bad part. I KEPT GOING! For 2 whole blocks! Then, it happened. The seat shifted. (shifted = came loose and fell backwards while supporting my fattest parts.) I very nearly fell. My first thought was "I'm gonna die sooner than I expected." and my second thought was "did I shave my legs?" Because, really the only thing I know about bike riders is that they shave their legs so that when they crash there isn't hair in the cuts. (well I think that is why, it might have something to do with tape and bandages....can't remember.) So, I screamed and propelled my body forward. I averted the crash. (Hmm...maybe I am really a professional biker under all this fat, I mean, I have natural instincts, right?) So, I turned around. Madeline laughed at me and rolled her eyes (she's 15). I huffed and puffed my way back. Tried to coast up the driveway (it didn't work) and plopped down while my daughter went to work on fixing my bike and me??? In another fit of impulsive insanity, I put the story on facebook. Now, I am committed to dying AND training in the public eye. I have a book deal and a major motion picture on the back burner. What have I done?