So, all right, I'm back on the bike. Back in my squooshy spandex with the giant tush pad in the middle, back in my super-moisture-wicking tee, back in the saddle again.
Living dangerously, I have relinquished the helmet.
Since I'm not a complete idiot, I have also relinquished, for the time being, the street.
For those of you with cars, or who walk, or leave your doors, this is good news.
The red dragon is, for the moment, tethered to a trainer in a small blue room downstairs, where there is a fan, an inspirational poster of Lance Armstrong, and a window into the blissful world of Kevin Sorbo as Hercules.
I enter the room, turn on the TV, hit the "play" button on the DVD player, and mount my steed. The heroic music thunders, the scantily clad Grecian maidens sigh in their diaphanous robes, the wheels spin, my legs begin to burn, and Kevin Sorbo comes to the rescue by distracting my mind with his well oiled body.
Ah, Kevin. Thank you. You gaze out at me with your moist blue eyes, shrug the wild locks of your hair off your glistening, muscled shoulders, heave your ample pecs and say, "Okay. So the gorgon is terrorizing the village. Again."
And I laugh - gorgons terrorizing the village pale in comparison to middle aged women steering their bicycles onto people's lawns and shrubbery. You can count on a gorgon to throw a log, wave his arms threateningly, and eventually fall to the mighty Hercules. A gorgon is a gorgon is a gorgon. Dependable.
You can't count on anything with a middle aged chick on a bike, except perhaps that the one thing you figured couldn't possibly happen, will. No, she won't run into that mailbox. It's twenty feet away. Oops. Ok, well certainly she'll steer past that SUV. Oops. I see a doberman. Oops. Isn't that a blackberry bush? Oops. Not anymore.
And Kevin, much as I admire you as eye candy, you'd be the first one running, screaming ahead of me like a little girl. A face like yours can't be exposed to the danger of a road bike gone wild. Your agent wouldn't hear of it. And frankly, neither would I.
So for now, more for the safety of the neighbors than my own, I keep company with Kevin, secure in the knowledge that if a gorgon were to terrorize Maple Valley, I and my Red Dragon could mow it down and save Hercules for the Grecian virgins.
It's a comforting thought.
And when I get off the saddle, and limp over to the TV, I swear, Kevin Sorbo is smiling just for me.
Oh Karen I am so sorry you had that encounter with vertigo! I have had it a few times, most notably on one mission trip to Ometepec. I woke up in the middle of the night, stepped out of bed, and fell flat on my face like "Timberrrrr". Scared my dear roommate, poor Phyllis Chang to death. The next day , I could not so much as roll my eyes without the whole world spinning. It resolved quickly , but has returned a few times since. I have never enjoyed the interesting goggles you described. But I have learned the same maneuver, which does help. No fair! We don't even have the golden locks to call ourselves " dizzy blondes". Actually I have never signed a blog, so have no idea what will happen to this note!
ReplyDeleteI'm loving this blog! You go, girl!
ReplyDeleteSo I'm out doing my "daily" walks again, trying to get back to my wedding weight so Andrew won't think I've baited and switched on him. And for my own general health and wardrobe purposes. So far my inspiration is coming from Peter Gabriel and Bruce Cockburn through my ipod earbuds (I finally found a pair that actually stays in my ears). How goes your battle?
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