On my quest to meet friends and keep myself busy, I decided to sign up for workout classes at Bournemouth University. I decided to take three classes, pole dancing, kickboxing, and Pilates, in hopes of meeting my future English best friend. I was not only going to be able to practice for my London to Paris bike ride in April on my ice purple, town and trail, snazzy bike, but I am also going to get my hot bod and sexy moves for my wedding! This is going to be FAB!
The first Monday of my first class came and my ever so logical Andy thought it would be best to drive me to class so I knew exactly how to get to the University by bike. There I was, about as excited and nervous as a 5 year old girl going to her first ballet class, with the Tom Tom navigating us to Bournemouth University, only to find it took us to the center of Bournemouth. There it was, the all knowledgeable Tom Tom, navigating us to turn down a pedestrian only street. I couldn’t believe there was an entire University smack dab in the middle of Top Shop, Subway, and Indian restaurants. How fantastic is this, when you are waiting for class to start you can shop for an outfit while eating Subway! Andy wasn’t nearly as naive. When we parked the car and started walking, he was sure we were not in the right place, or even the right part of town. He knew there was just no way BU is amongst all this. And he was right.... Bournemouth University was 5 miles away and in a completely different area of town! When I realized I had officially missed my first day of class all my excitement left me like a popped balloon.
Now for attempt two to make it to my next class, kickboxing, on Tuesday. I was again all excited and ready to get working out. I had been to the campus and seen the route home and was ready to buckle up my helmet, throw on my backpack, and head down the street on my purple speed machine! I woke up and saw it was a typical English winter’s day, very cold and very wet, but I was not going to let this get me down. So I got on my bike and headed toward BU. I only made it 500 yards before I fell off my mean machine and slammed into the wet pavement (how am I ever going to make it to Paris when I can’t even bicycle on a sidewalk without falling off!!!?). But I again was not going to let this get to my excitement of meeting my new best friend. Up I got, back onto my bike, and started off again for BU. But I got lost trying to find the center of town, which did I mention is where I go every day!?! I had no idea how to cross the railroad tracks (which when crossed is the center of town). I just kept cycling around trying to find the street where my hand written directions started. I just needed to find the road at the end of the shopping street where I walked endlessly day after day. After about 40 min of aimlessly riding back and forth on the same pavement clueless as to where to go, I noticed another cyclist coming up from an underground ramp with a sign above it labelled "subway". A subway to me is an underground train, but I soon discovered a "subway" in the UK was an underground tunnel to get under a busy street or railroad!
Then it got much worse. The rain came pouring down, the streets were so busy I felt like I was trying to ride my bike down I-95, and when I came to a three stemmed fork in the road I had no idea where to go. This was not on the self drawn map of directions, and I did not remember this from the drive with Andy. After a careful game of eeny meeny miney moe, I took the road in the middle. I rode down this for about 10 minutes until it ended and I was faced with two signs and one was pointing to Bournemouth. I took the Bournemouth route, kept riding, and after another 15 minutes was back at the three street fork! I couldn’t believe I had just made one huge circle! So this time I took the road to the right. After about another 15 minutes I came to another unfamiliar fork in the road. Not sure which way to go, I picked the right. Only to once again come to the same three stemmed fork in the road! That was it! I was cold, soaking wet, and on the verge of tears! This was horrendous! I circled the same block twice, fell off, and had been yelled at by little kids to get off the sidewalk! Screw kickboxing I was going home!
Attempt three. On Wednesday my perfect Andy managed to get off work early to ride with me to class. It was another cold and wet day. We left 2 hours before my class to make sure I got there on time. From the minute we started I was nervous. Andy, with his Lance Armstrong racing bike, zipped off down the road leaving me and my purple machine in its dust. I was left desperately trying to stay on the double yellow lines, as close to the curb as possible, with cars zipping past me at 50 miles an hour, while Andy raced along with the flow of traffic! This was a nightmare! Then we got to the mountainous bit of our journey! I had never in my life, which is understandable since I did grow up in Florida where I am pretty sure the entire state is downhill, climbed such a huge hill! By the third “hill” I demounted my bike and walked, at a much faster pace, up the hill. Then when I think it couldn’t get worse my bike brakes clamp down and are stuck to be permanently breaking. As if it wasn’t hard enough to pedal! After this, for a non-stop 2 hours, we finally made it to my Pilates class only to be yelled at by the instructor for being 5 minutes late and disturbing the class! Next week I am taking the bus!!!
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