Thursday, July 23, 2009

Sympathy Pains

My best friend, whom we call Vegas Stacey (she doesn't know this and I will let you believe it is for her scandalous nature instead of geographical location) called me today to tell me about her first bike riding adventure. In the past three weeks both of decided it was vital to our existences to have a mountain bike. And we both bought one on impulse, knowing little to nothing about the sport. Points on her end for having a husband to teach her.

He forgot to mention the effects of riding in Vegas heat with the sun beating you into the asphalt. The way she told it, she rode her bike around the neighborhood a nice easy 20-minute trip with a brutal hill at the end. In my mind I imagined her pushing, pulling and not really pedaling that last half of the hill. I wasn't far off but didn't expect the next tidbit.

Her ride made her physically ill. This amazes me and sends me into a fit of maniacal giggles. Yes, this is why she calls me. To brighten my day with the release of endorphins. I couldn't ask for a better prescription. It's funnier to me because the last we rode a bike together I had the mono. It knocked me out for a summer. And instead of lying low I hiked Timponogous at 3 a.m. with Stacey. It turned out to be one of our less brilliant ideas as I started hallucinating 10 minutes in.

So we compromised with our outdoor adventures. If she wanted to run for miles and miles I would ride a bike beside her. All we needed was a bike. My friend Brian lived in our complex and had a midget bmx-ish bike, minus the bmx and add some years and lack of rotation. I remember gasping for air and wishing for the burning in my thighs to stop, or for my legs to disappear in general.

Even on the bike I couldn't keep up. Stacey got a little frustrated and switched me. Remember that I still have the mono and I am kicking her ass. Riding the bike she can't keep up with my sicky-shuffle. Great bike.

Stacey's telling me that the only reason she didn't actually throw-up is she couldn't open the door fast enough and thought it improper to expel over the flowers. My sides hurt from laughing and I've got a man with curious eyes staring at me. I assure her that she isn't really as out-of-shape as this story leads her to believe. After a moment of silence in which I picture her rolling her eyes at me I confess to hyperventilating on my first ride. You can understand why she calls me.

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