Un:

“How are you tonight?”
“Oh I was fantastic until you blinded me with your fucking police car lights on the fucking bike trail in your fucking police car. What the hell, Officer?”*

*“Fantastic.”

Deux:

“Was that a sheriff’s car?”
“No it was one of their ‘not quite an undercover’ blue cars.”
“Yeah. I think Milwaukee Police have bike cops, but state patrol have those blue cars. Which makes me wonder why state patrol is on the bike tr—”
“I think a better question is ‘Why is there a fucking car on the bike trail at 8:45 at night blinding me with their fucking high beams and search light and then asking me how I’m doing tonight?’.”
“Well, yeah. That too.” 

I want to believe #DontDie club started last year. When Annie almost ran me over with her car. And then tweeted about it. Which is how I found out that horrible screeching near death noise behind me was her. #that’senoughitalicssawa

I repaid the favor about a week later while we were biking together and we went opposite directions and, while we magically avoided crashing into each other, that involved Annie falling over on her bike.

We love each other, really.

Moving on.

As one of the self-proclaimed founders of the #DontDie Club, you’d think I’d use a certain level of caution when riding. 

You’d be wrong.

This morning I went biking in the dark. With no helmet. To Danger Cliff. I live dangerously. But not quite as dangerously as when I went for a ride this evening, in the dark. With a helmet. With Sara. At some point of the Hank Aaron State Trail, we realized we forgot to cross the street. Sara started turning her bike around to go back the 8 feet to the crossing we passed. I was having none of that nonsense. I just hopped the curb into the street.

Into an oncoming car.

Did I even look before crossing? Of course I did. But something told me that getting across the street took priority over there is a fucking car coming at you. Some people should not trust their instincts.

And while I’m staring at this car coming right at me like a fucking deer in headlights, about to die, I think to myself—no, not SHIT I AM GOING TO DIE!—no. I am thinking “Huh. That was dumb.” No really. I might have said it out loud. It’s a completely normal and appropriate reaction to near death, I promise. I’ve had some experience.

Of course, all of this was happening in slow motion, so I was able to hop the next curb into safety. I’m sure it wasn’t all in slow motion for the car driver.

Car driver, wherever you are, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m an impulsive asshole.

But at least I’m still in the #DontDie Club.

For now.

If you die, you’re kicked out of #DontDie Club.

Cycling Cyclists

I love riding my bike. I don’t do it for burning calories. I don’t do it for racking up miles. I just honest-to-god love riding my bike. 

Right now it’s cold and slushy and windy and I’m a baby. So I’m not riding. It’s hurting my little heart, but I’ve seen too many cyclists almost die this winter to become suddenly brave and adventurous.

Sometimes I go to the gym. I don’t hate it, but I’m not particularly fond of it. Sometimes I feel like going. Sometimes I don’t. It’s quite simple. I’ve been feeling like maybe it’s something I should feel like I should do but, you know what? I’m tired of gym guilt. No. It’s not even gym guilt. It’s guilt for not feeling guilty about not going to the gym.

I grew up Catholic, by the way.

So, here’s my new plan. Sometimes I feel like I have some free time and I could read my book on the elliptical. Sometimes I will then go to the gym. I pay for it. It’s there if I need or want it. That’s all I really care about. I don’t count calories. I don’t weigh myself. My pants fit or they don’t. I have a lot of pants. I have a lot of skirts and dresses. I’m not riding my bike for my health or for some delusional dream of weight loss (let’s remember my last major bike ride ended at the brewery). I do it because I enjoy it. Why should the gym be different? If I don’t feel like going, I hate being there. That’s not fun for anyone.

I eat ridiculously well. I get plenty of activity throughout my day. I think I’m pretty ok without adding a feeling of obligation to my life. 

When it gets a little warmer out, I’ll pick up my rides again. Right now, I like going for walks and I like going to the gym when I feel like going to the gym, and I like making people smile on dailymile. And I like craft beer.

I like enjoying my life, and nothing is going to guilt me out of that. 

Today was the big ride. Sixty-five miles. That was the plan.

I’m not sure what I was expecting on this course, but that was not it. I knew there would be hills, but I was not expecting the entire ride to be nothing but giant hills. The first 11 miles was one right after another. BAM! And they got progressively difficult. Add in some heavy winds, and it was not a piece of cake.

Before the ride even started, in the registration tent, the tent that seemed about to blow away at any second, Stacy, Stephanie, and I decided that we’d go to the point of the route where the 45-mile and the 65-mile routes split, and we’d see how we felt. 45 is still a good ride.

The first rest stop came at 11 miles. Stephanie didn’t feel safe with her bike blowing everywhere and had to stop. I’m pretty sure we’re going to save our maps and go back later and complete the route on our own. She put up a good fight. Stacy and I made a decision to stick with the 30 miles route. It was hard, but hot damn. It was a brutal ride.

We braved the next 19 miles of hill after hill with some high winds coming straight at us. And after that decision to back down to 30 miles, my ride just got so much easier. Having such a difficult time with that first 11 miles really took its toll on me. The idea of doing that for another 54 miles just really seemed to weigh me down. I think if Stacy had still wanted to go, I would have, but I wouldn’t have enjoyed it. I would have spent the entire ride wishing I was done. Instead I spent my ride looking at the leaves changing color and coasting down the hills that I fought so hard to pedal up. It was hard, it was a lot of work, but it was fun.

So thank you for a great ride, ladies. Stephanie, I will definitely need to come out to Madison to bike with you in the near future! I have your number now. Sucker. :)

Right now, I’m home. Somehow I made it up the stairs. I’m going to go enjoy a nice hot bath while watching season 1 of Caprica.

Next year, I’ll know what to expect on that ride. And I’ll be more prepared for it. My first organized ride may not have gone as planned, but it was still a blast. I’ll definitely need to sign myself up for some more.

Especially when they give me beer at the end.

I have priorities, you know.