October 29, 2011

What Goes Down Must Come Up

At first I felt strong, pedalling uphill, into a strong headwind, towing my firstborn behind me. The hill is steep and long, and many a person walks her bike up it, but I'd gone up that hill before and wasn't going to let a little (50 km/hr or 30 mph) wind stop me. My cadence was crap and my handlebars dipped perilously from side to side, but every revolution of my wheels brought me closer to the top. I started to feel like The Little Engine That Could - I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. - except my rhythm was more like I. Think. I. Can. Ithink. I. Can. I. Thinkican.

Before I knew it, the hard part of the ride was done. To make a loop, I masochistically turned up yet another hill on the way home, though a much more forgiving hill. When I crested that lesser hill, I zipped up my soft-shell for the long descent. There would be one molehill on the way home, but most of the climbing was done!

Coasting downhill, with the wind now at my back, I felt invincible. When I got to the turnoff to my street, I decided to go a bit further. The ride was just starting to feel good, why stop now? I flew down the path with my hair streaming behind me. After a few miles, I realized every bit of elevation lost would have to be regained. Crap. Forgetting that M was in the trailer, I hastily pulled a U-turn, almost causing a collision with another cyclist. Double-crap.

The homestretch was a push. The wind had not eased up and if anything had been turned up a notch.  Pulling up in front of my house, I suddenly felt tired, sink-into-bed-fully-dressed tired. Of course now that the Chariot was no longer moving, M was suddenly awake and wanting out. I hauled her out of the trailer and went inside for cookies and milk, the snack of champions.

How do you incorporate your kids into your fitness regime?


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