Josh recommended I take back street A to back street B, which put me on the thoroughfare very briefly. I decided to take main street A to main street B, which changed after two near death experiences and a series of giant elevation gains to back street A, which seemed to be more or less hill-free. After pedaling/coasting for several blocks, crossing the railroad tracks twice, I realized I was going the wrong way, but since it was downhill, I didn't really care. At some point I knew I needed to get back over toward the main drag, and because I was too tired to find another legit railroad crossing, I picked up my bike (one end at a time because the thing weighs more than ghengis khan) and dragged it across the tracks in the dirt. I had half a mind to leave the stupid bicycle right there in the tracks to be destroyed by the next freight train that roared through, but decided against it since I was still formulating more gratifying demolition approaches. Most of the second half of my ride was filled with fantasies of twisted metal and snapping spokes. I wound up in neighborhood that I recognized as one Josh had recently done some remodeling in, and lost several tools to neighborhood thugs masquerading as schoolchildren. Somehow I had ended up about 5 blocks too far south, but I decided the downhill was worth it. I finally made it to my destination, sweaty, frozen, angry as heck that my husband would consider this harrowing experience "fun". No comment.
|the nemesis. Don't be fooled. it isn't as innocent as it looks.|
Anyway, I survived, somehow, all 3.4 miles and 15,000 ft climb. My RunKeeper app told me I only burned 143 calories. 143! That's like not even a cookie!! How is that possible. Sometimes I believe RunKeeper exists only to make me feel inadequate. Kind of like kids. And crappy vacuum cleaners.
I even went to yoga, mostly because I wasn't about to let the foolishness of carrying a retarded yoga mat on my back across town be for naught, and I had only burned 143 calories. I still had a scrap of pride left after all, until the yoga instructor spent 70 minutes demonstrating all of the things that my hips Will Not Do. I blame the hills. After all of my minimal-calorie-burning activities, all I could think about was a McChicken. But I was good. I drove home, I unloaded my $200 worth of Costco groceries and even the bike that I swore I would never touch again after jamming it into the back of the Yukon, and ate a little teeny cup of greek yogurt. And 16 candy corns.
We bought a new bed last weekend, and after a series of delivery faux pas, which resulted in 2 free latex pillows, it was just delivered. I am so excited to try it out. Can I just go to bed now?