Up the hill! That was my first mistake.
Now my friend was very concerned I should look after his pride and joy – you see it’s his fifth favourite bike. The great thing about borrowing his bike is I can work out if I want to go down the cycling road before I fork out the big bucks. While my friend will be pleased to know I didn’t harm his Mongoose at all, his bike did not reciprocate.
Interestingly, it isn’t my thighs or calves which it caused the most damage to, it’s my tush. Given the girth and padding I have back there I would have thought a simple bike seat would be the least of my worries. I wasn’t fifty meters up the road before I began fantasizing about couch like bike seats with a lambswool covers. Two kilometers up the road and I was fantasizing about catching a taxi home.
This whole fiasco is an exercise in trying to find a way for me to get my heart rate up so I stand a chance of seeing all six of my children out of the house.
After today’s effort I have to say running is winning (it’s a joke I call it running, it’s more of a geriatric shuffle), mostly because when I get tired while running I can walk: when I get tired while riding I can swerve and get hit by a bus.
Some colourful locals gave me loads of encouragement, including an old guy who drove along beside me asking if he should call 000. Thanks for your support, Dad.
Still, I’m keen to get out there and have another go at this bike riding caper. First things first though, I’m going to tape one of the lounge-room cushions to the seat. Afterall, given my physical prowess and shapely figure (and the Spiderman helmet!) I can’t possibly look any dumber than I already do.