Biking

The daunting London to Paris ride is quickly sneaking up. Most weekends Andy and I go for a training ride, which I begin to dread on Thursday. Last week the weather was horrendous and predicted to get worse throughout the weekend. Then I heard the magical words come out of Andy’s mouth, “Looks like we won’t be able to go for our 40 miler.” He sounded devastated, as if someone told him his five star vacation to Hawaii had been canceled, where I on the other hand, could have sworn I heard angles singing!! I could finally look forward to the weekend and not have to think about climbing on that purple piece of metal crap!  Then Sunday rolled around….

We woke up to the sound of sea gulls singing and people laughing. The sun was showing it’s face for the first time in what seemed like weeks. It was a gorgeous day. And then Andy muttered those horrible words that made it feel as if my world was collapsing down around me, “What a beautiful day! We can go out for our ride!!” And right then is when my mood turned from happy go lucky to negative Nancy!

There Andy was with a big bright smile across his face as he put on his black spandex pants equipped with a padded butt and reflective paint, as I moped around complaining about anything that came to mind. I hated every minute of this bike ride and it hadn’t even begun.

Once we did get on the rode chirpy Andy raced ahead as if in training for the Tour De France, while I peddled with all my might and still barley able to break 7 miles per hour. After 10 minutes we reached a busy roundabout where Andy zipped through it at the speed of traffic waving his hands around doing fancy road signals, leaving me to fend for myself. I had no idea what to do. Do I stop, look left, look right, go in the middle of the road, stay to the side???? I had no idea! It looked like a bike riding death trap! So I stopped and got off my bike and crossed two roads walking my bike to a safe parking lot where I could get back on with ease. However, when I got my bike safely across Andy was impatiently awaiting me. And this is when I lost it shouting, “I can’t believe you LEFT me back there at the roundabout to die!!! How was I ever supposed to get around!?!?! I didn’t even know which way to look!!! I was almost run over!!!!” To which he responded, “How could you almost get run over when you didn’t even try to cross!”

Fuming I got on my bike and stormed off down the road only to look back and see no Andy. I turned around and saw him peddling toward me in a state of rage shouting, “ Where are you going?” I sassily replied, “I don’t know! You didn’t tell me! I don’t even know where I am!” And eventually after much back in forth I said,” That’s it! Give me the keys I am going home,” which opened up the door for Andy to give me a military motivational you can’t give up and be a quitter speech! UGGGGG I hate those! I keep telling him I am not a military recruit. I just wanted to scream, “I don’t care if I am a quitter!!!!” as I throw my bike into the river, but instead I got back on the bike with the look of sheer disgust on my face.

And on we went. Me hating every single minute of being on that bike wishing I was anywhere but peddling along the boring road on a bike the squeaks with the thought “I HATE this running through my head every 3 seconds, while Andy does circles around me saying “Isn’t this great! Don’t you love it!?” Lets hope on the London to Paris ride Andy and I are nowhere near each other because it might just start WWIII!