Speed Bump
A date night at last!!
Monday evening Terence and I finally managed to get out, just the two of us. My sister Amy graciously took on our brood so that we could get out. When Terence asked me what I wanted to do with our hours of freedom, I told him I wanted to go mountain biking. My husband was less than enthusiastic. Not that he didn't want to go, exactly, but he expressed doubt that my bike was up to it. Frankly, I thought this was an excuse. Granted, my mountain bike is old and beat up (we bought it for $25 at a city auction) but it is a Trek-- a pretty good brand that has held up well under all the abuse. All the gears didn't have to work perfectly, just decently enough to get up some hills. Terence wasn't impressed by my confidence. He listed about six or seven things he thought could go wrong. I patiently held my ground-- sometimes Terence takes the caution thing to paranoia in my book. Since I organized this whole date shebang he gave in gracefully though. After all, it's not often we go mountain biking (like almost never) and he used to do it regularly back in his single days.
The path I chose for our ride is the course for the trail run Amy & I are signed up for in February. I figured I might as well get a good look at what I am going to have to run. The first stretch was moderately difficult but not unexpected: a gradual incline of rocky dirt, with occasional sandy patches that were very tough to slog through. It was when we turned off onto the next trail that all heck broke loose. When I went down into my first ravine and tried to get back up the other side I could not pedal for some reason, enough that I actually fell over. I thought it was just my lack of mountain biking skill. It wasn't until I came to a complete screeching halt on the next uphill stretch that it occurred to me that something was wrong with my bike.
A short inspection by Terence confirmed what I had already guessed-- somehow my bike wheel had gotten out of alignment and was rubbing against the bike frame. Terence jimmied with it a bit and then we got going again. I thought it was a fluke.
Nope.
Several stops later it was apparent that Terence was right. My bike was not up to the task of handling real trails. The 6 mile loop was grueling. By the downhill stretch at the end, I was having to pedal hard just to keep moving against the friction while Terence blithely sailed past me without having to move his legs. (My dear husband is a gentleman though-- he had offered to switch bikes with me and give my poor legs a break but I didn't want to make him pay for my blind overconfidence.) To his credit, when I at last rolled back into the parking lot, he never said, "I told you so." Goodness knows I deserved it!
It was a great date though. (We finished by heading home to change and eating terrific sandwiches at a local deli.) When it comes down to it, these kind of activities (even with all the "drama") are great marriage strengtheners-- assuming you both take the speed bumps in stride and there are no personal attacks over it. Just think about the memories we've made! I'm sure I'll look back on this fondly, long after dates that went more smoothly have faded into oblivion.
Oh, there was one strong negative for the evening though. After taking an hour of riding (not counting the fix-it stops) to complete the course, I am sick with fear about February's race. There is no way on earth I am going to be ready for it. Either Amy is going to have to leave me in the dust, or we are going to be limping to the finish line two hours after we start. Assuming I don't croak out on one of the steep rocky inclines 3 miles out!
Monday evening Terence and I finally managed to get out, just the two of us. My sister Amy graciously took on our brood so that we could get out. When Terence asked me what I wanted to do with our hours of freedom, I told him I wanted to go mountain biking. My husband was less than enthusiastic. Not that he didn't want to go, exactly, but he expressed doubt that my bike was up to it. Frankly, I thought this was an excuse. Granted, my mountain bike is old and beat up (we bought it for $25 at a city auction) but it is a Trek-- a pretty good brand that has held up well under all the abuse. All the gears didn't have to work perfectly, just decently enough to get up some hills. Terence wasn't impressed by my confidence. He listed about six or seven things he thought could go wrong. I patiently held my ground-- sometimes Terence takes the caution thing to paranoia in my book. Since I organized this whole date shebang he gave in gracefully though. After all, it's not often we go mountain biking (like almost never) and he used to do it regularly back in his single days.
The path I chose for our ride is the course for the trail run Amy & I are signed up for in February. I figured I might as well get a good look at what I am going to have to run. The first stretch was moderately difficult but not unexpected: a gradual incline of rocky dirt, with occasional sandy patches that were very tough to slog through. It was when we turned off onto the next trail that all heck broke loose. When I went down into my first ravine and tried to get back up the other side I could not pedal for some reason, enough that I actually fell over. I thought it was just my lack of mountain biking skill. It wasn't until I came to a complete screeching halt on the next uphill stretch that it occurred to me that something was wrong with my bike.
A short inspection by Terence confirmed what I had already guessed-- somehow my bike wheel had gotten out of alignment and was rubbing against the bike frame. Terence jimmied with it a bit and then we got going again. I thought it was a fluke.
Nope.
Several stops later it was apparent that Terence was right. My bike was not up to the task of handling real trails. The 6 mile loop was grueling. By the downhill stretch at the end, I was having to pedal hard just to keep moving against the friction while Terence blithely sailed past me without having to move his legs. (My dear husband is a gentleman though-- he had offered to switch bikes with me and give my poor legs a break but I didn't want to make him pay for my blind overconfidence.) To his credit, when I at last rolled back into the parking lot, he never said, "I told you so." Goodness knows I deserved it!
It was a great date though. (We finished by heading home to change and eating terrific sandwiches at a local deli.) When it comes down to it, these kind of activities (even with all the "drama") are great marriage strengtheners-- assuming you both take the speed bumps in stride and there are no personal attacks over it. Just think about the memories we've made! I'm sure I'll look back on this fondly, long after dates that went more smoothly have faded into oblivion.
Oh, there was one strong negative for the evening though. After taking an hour of riding (not counting the fix-it stops) to complete the course, I am sick with fear about February's race. There is no way on earth I am going to be ready for it. Either Amy is going to have to leave me in the dust, or we are going to be limping to the finish line two hours after we start. Assuming I don't croak out on one of the steep rocky inclines 3 miles out!
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