Stocking Up On Icy Hot

This evening I went on my first solo bike ride. The first was with my husband, Lance. The second ride I took with my mother-in-law because Matt was wary of me going by myself on the bike trail. Let me preclude that by giving you a couple facts:

1. I have two black belts. Sure, I haven't practiced in a decade but I'm fairly certain I could throw a solid punch if need be. And to be completely honest to any would-be attackers, I have been known to engage in a Tae Bo video now and again so yeah, you could say I'm pretty current on skills.

2. Matt's mom weighs maybe 130 lb and is just one of those adorable people, the kind you would accompany to a nice garden party but not to, say, an interview for a bouncer position at a club. I did thank her for protecting me after the ride.

Tonight, though, it was just me. Yes, I had an mp3 player with pink earbuds. No one else seems to be listening to music. I'm sure they're all thinking about recovery times and lactic acids and becoming more aerodynamic. I was wondering how exactly they get the candy coating on M & M's. I mean, I realize it's some sort of machine. I'm not a complete fool. But still, I was a cyclist. Me! Nodding to other cyclists the way athletes do to each other. Those were my people. Sure, I felt a great deal of pride being a part of such an elite group of humans and I may very well develop an unbearable ego. It's the price to pay for greatness.

Head nod. 'Hey, bro. Nice wheels.'

Head nod. 'Sweet calves. Looks like you worked hard on those. Well done, you."

Head nod. 'Looking fast, there, bud.'

Except for this one guy. Didn't even glance at me as he pedaled on by me. Jerk. Stop leaning so far on your handlebars. We get it, you're amazing. But you're mean and your entire skin tight outfit is plastered with company logos. Cooperate sell-out!

Not that I wouldn't take some sponsorship of course. But my luck it would be something like Spam or Bubba Burgers or some such and I would pull on my Bubba Burger Jersey and climb on my GIANT brand bike.

Halfway through the ride I was making pretty time when the top of my head started to itch. Like smack in the middle of my head - no way to reach under the helmet. I tried rubbing the helmet back and forth vigorously on my head. I made sure to call out "I'M COMPLETELY SANE!" to other cyclists to reassure them.

I was really hoping it wasn't lice or something. Darn my luxurious locks!

But it was to no avail. I had to take off my helmet. As I did, one of my earbuds got pulled out of my ear, whipped around and hit me in the eye.

Because I wasn't stupid looking enough on that bike.

Scratched the itch - relief. Then I realized I had to get my helmet back on while pedaling my bike. Lest you think you can ride it with no hands, the way we all did all kids, these wheels are super skinny. Wobbling all over the trail, trying desperately to click my helmet shut with one hand and reminding myself to appreciate my hands more. No way I was continuing without my helmet. If I crashed and lost consciousness, there was no way I was giving some ER staff the enjoyment of taking care of me with my pig bbq shirt and itchy head. Those ER people are mean.

I finally finished my ride and feel pretty darn good.

I may not have been fast and I may not have looked pretty doing it.

But today, I was a cyclist.