Yesterday was the start of something great.
Well, it is supposed to be something great.
Last year, I biked to work several days a week during the summer. This year’s plan was to start earlier and push harder. “5 days a week!” I proudly proclaimed. “Just think of all the gas money I’ll save!”
Each of the past 3 weeks were supposed to be Week 1. Without fail, it snowed again. and again. and again. So here I am stuck indoors trying to win the offices Biggest Loser contest without my favorite exercise pastime. “Rats.” I shook my old woman fist at the clouds.
Yesterday was different. The previous evenings warm thunderstorms had melted the snow from the bike lanes, and I was free at last. Knowing it would be a harder 8.5 miles since my last long ride was… a long season ago, I armed myself with a windbreaker, inhaler, and extra time. Each worked its butt off for me. The wind off the Fox River was hellbent on tipping my bike as I pushed over the paved trail. Cutting out to the De Pere streets, I backpacked the lovely windbreaker in favor of a neon yellow shirt for extra special “Hey Cars, do you see me now?” moments. After manipulating the heavy morning traffic diverted by construction, I raced up the frontage road toward the office. An asthma attack brought about by the terror of charging through the roundabouts pretending my sorry ass was a car was cooled by the inhaler and allowed me to reconsider my survival as a atom-stuffed creature. The last 5 mins were an awful funeral march pace as I avoided the gravel shoulder and prayed to the Bike Lords that all drivers would see me.
So back to that first shot. That’s my bike. Ooo beautiful you say. Yes, but there’s one major problem.
When I pulled her out of the bike rack after work, I found this:
Bum bum bummmmm.
Not the best Week 1 I’ve ever had.