Oh to be huge, strong and 16
This entry was posted on 8/22/2006 5:08 PM and is filed under blather.
In an attempt to mix up my work outs a little, I decided to go biking instead of running today. Since I live within a mile of some of the best urban bike trails in the world, it always strikes me as ridiculous that I don't take advantage of them more often. It's just that biking takes time and running doesn't.
On the other hand, I hate running and biking is fun.
Who doesn't feel like they're eight years old when they're riding a bike?
Okay, maybe if you're in spandex pants, goggles, an aerodynamic helmet and riding a bike that wieghs seven ounces and goes fifty miles an hour, you don't feel like you're eight, but on my comfy, slow, sit up straight and look at the lake bike, I'm eight.
And I like it.
I decided I would go around three lakes this morning. Jay made Zack get up and go with me. We rode down to Harriet. I told him I didn't think I could keep up with him and he didn't need to wait for me if he didn't want to, but he just asked how far we were going. He stayed right on my tail around Harriet, Calhoun and Isles and back around Calhoun. It was great. The sky was grey, but it was warm, not much wind...I kept a steady pace and broke a sweat without feeling like I was pushing too hard.
When we got back to Harriet, he said "okay, I'm off. See ya at home."
It was like watching the tail lights of the Millenium Falcon disappear into light speed. For a second, I thought I was pedaling backwards.
I did actually see him again before I got home.
On the south side of Harriet, the road goes up a hill and the bike path stays down by the water. Here, the path goes through a beautiful tunnel of trees for about a half a mile. There are three sets of stairs cut into the hill, down to the lake from the street up above. The longest of these flights takes you up to Penn Avenue and the 50 some steps are steep and so narrow your whole foot doesn't fit on one. I hate that stairway, it's exhausting and gives me vertigo.
As I came around the curve in the tunnel, I could see Zack stopped a few hundred yards ahead. At first, I worried that he had blown a tire or pulled a muscle or something. Then, as I watched, he popped his bike onto his shoulder with one hand and ran up the Penn Ave steps to the street. He took those steps three or four at a time.
After riding more than ten miles as fast as I could go.
Fifteen minutes behind him, I rode up the driveway at home, a sweating, gasping, tired bag of old lady.
He was halfway through a box of Coco Puffs.
Katie said she wants to come next time.
