Like riding a bike

I reached a painful realization last night. I am out of shape.

I never really thought I was that out of shape. I mean, Iíve seen a lot worse. I usually think Iím pretty active. On the weekends Iím always outside doing something, and I spend my lunch break at the gym at least two days a week. But apparently itís not enough, because I still allowed myself to get out of shape.

I reached that realization last night when I decided to take my toddler for a bike ride. People are always comparing things to riding bikes. ďItís like riding a bike, you never forget,Ē theyíll say. Well, you might not forget how, but I must have forgotten something, because it never used to be so difficult.

When I was younger I spent hours riding my bike up and down the road in front of my house. I would get my friends or my sisters and we would spend hours riding over the same three mile stretch of road over and over again.

Iíll admit, itís been a while since Iíve gone biking, but after spending some time on the stationary bike at the gym on Monday, and barely breaking a sweat, I figured how hard could it be?

Well, with the addition of a pull-behind baby carrier, which felt like it weighed 3,000 pounds, and a 35 pound toddler, it was really, really hard. My trip only lasted for about five minutes, but it was enough to drain my energy for the night.

My plan was to travel to my grandmotherís house, deliver some fresh vegetables from my garden and go back home. I got half way there before I started to lose my momentum and the bike began to slow down, much to my sonís dismay. The second half of the ride lasted twice as long as the first, and by the time I got to my grandmaís house, I needed some time to recuperate.

I was not anxious to get back on the bike and go home, but since most of the trip was downhill, it didnít take too long, until I reached my driveway.

Unfortunately for me, my driveway is a truly evil entity. Even as a child, I had trouble riding the bike up the driveway, so I admitted defeat early and hopped off the bike to start pushing it toward the house. I felt like that king in Greek mythology who was forced to push a rock up a hill for all eternity. If my child hadnít been strapped to the back, I probably would have given up and abandoned the bike, but since he was, I slowly proceeded up the hill until I finally reached the house.

For the rest of the night, I tried to justify my struggles. It was obviously the added weight of the baby carrier, and I think the bike had a flat tire, but either way, Iím pretty sure two days a week at the gym is not going to cut it.

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