So, I bought a bike.
It's a Raleigh Detour 3.0, and it set me back somewhere in the range of three bills - Ben Franklin bills, doncha know. I had to get one. The Girl got hers - a 4.0 from last year's models so she didn't pay much more than I did - and I wasn't going to let her have all the fun.
And by fun I mean burning in the front of the leg just above the knee when I peddle my pudgy backside up and down the hills that I hadn't entirely noticed all around my neighborhood.
But, she's got a new job that's within biking distance of our house - 1.1 miles straight there but more likely 1.8 miles via the subdivision backroutes that'll keep her off the busy and frighteningly narrow busy street near us - so she's got to get into shape. That was she doesn't look like a soppy wet dog when she shows up to work. Won't do to have the new librarian all stinky before the morning bell rings, now will it?
And that means I'm slowly working myself into some semblance of shape, as well.
Good luck to me, folks.
And by fun, I also mean the feeling of the wind whipping past your face as you cruise down some of those big hills. Which is, admittedly, kinda awesome.
I don't think I'd been on a bike in like a dozen years, but I do dig it, man.