It's Like Falling Off a Bike

I slowly but successfully completed my half marathon on August 1st as planned, despite my injured foot. So it was time to give my foot a break and not run for a while. For eight days, yoga and swimming took the place of my long, quiet runs.

Then vacation happened.

I'm at the inlaw's farm, and there is no yoga or swimming. I have my yoga mat, and I will do a few downward dogs, but it is not the same as Carlie or Karin at Sun & Moon. And there is a municipal pool, but there are no 'lap hours' at 6 a.m. like at home. I figure it's because the people up here work, so there is no need to work out.

So I set out on my husband's fancy bike the other day for a long, quiet ride. Lance Armstrong's no softie, so bike riding must be a real sport. I'd sweat; I'd work some muscles; it'd be good.

We didn't bring my bike up because of physics. My bike's set up for hauling two children, so attaching it to the bike rack is a challenge. And with the hills up here, who wants to be pulling around two children? It would be long, but it would not be quiet. Plus, I'd have trouble enough pulling my four cheeks and three chins up these hills.

Kevin's bike proved to be a challenge to ride because I needed to borrow his special bike shoes that clicked right into the pedals. Despite being five sizes too big, the shoes were no problem.

Until it was time to stop. I was reaching the point in my ride where I wanted to turn around and head back to the valley.

I didn't really know how to unclick the shoes out of the pedals, but I'd slowed to a near stop. Those pesky physics again. What happens when you stop pedaling, panicking because there are cars coming at you?

You. Fall. Slowly.

Ever. So. Slowly.

Down. A. Ditch.

But you are too embarrassed and proud to admit there's a problem, so you hike right up out of that ditch with your hands above your head to tell the drivers, who have slowed to see the joke that is me falling with a bike attached to me, that all is ok.

"No problem here; I'm ok. Please, please, please, don't stop." That's what my hand gestures tell the drivers, the only two I've seen in 30 minutes biking to the top of this crazy hill.

As far as falls go, this one is awesome, meaning only a few bruises and no permanent scars.

I am a runner because I am a loser at all other athletic attempts. I'm not good at anything else, really.

As far as biking is concerned, I'm well known for two great falls.

One when I was about 8 years old. I was trying to mimic my older brother's 'pop-a-wheelie' up a curb at the north end of our block, right by the funeral-home-turned-library.

He rocked. I hit rock.

Screaming, I returned home bloody and bruised, with a concussion that prevented me from performing my role in South Pacific that weekend at the Beverly Arts Center. (I'm sure my acting career would have turned out much better if that performance would have gone on as planned.)

I still have a fake front tooth to show for that fall.

The next major fall was when I was riding home from work one night in the rain. I jumped the curb to avoid the Halsted/North/Clybourn intersection in Chicago but then got whopped with a restaurant door opening. I flew into the street, into oncoming traffic, but survived with just a few scars on my hands.

I'm just not that good at riding a bike. Good at falling, but not riding.

So I will try again after the pain subsides. The hour riding was a better workout than the two hours golfing the day before. Even with the fall, I'm still a better biker than I am a golfer.