Saturday, July 16, 2011

The one where I find old lip balm and lose my dignity.

So, I discovered that I am completely unprepared for cougar attacks and the zombie apocalypse.

MB and I decided to go bike riding yesterday. He suggested we go trail riding. I suggested we ride around the neighborhood because it's been 3 years since I've even ridden my bike. He suggested I just suck it up and stop being a girl.

I made some other suggestions but ultimately lost the battle. Apparently, reason and common sense have no place in our relationship.

Anywhowearsthepants, we loaded up the bikes, filled up our Camelbaks and headed to the trail.

While gassing up the Jeep on the way there, MB checks to make sure I'm ready for the ride.

MB: Are you prepared for cougar attacks?

Me: Cougar attacks? Is that really a concern?

MB: Well, yeah. Cougars are a real threat out there in the wild. Are you prepared?

Me: (checking the pockets of my Camelbak which hasn't been used for 3 years) Uh...I don't know. I have half a pack of gum, 2 tampons and...ooh, there's my carrot lip balm! I was wondering where that was.

MB: So, I guess you aren't ready for a bear attack either. Great.

Me: (applying lip balm and dancing to the gas station musack) Uh huh. Whatever.

When we get there, we gear up. This means strapping on the Camelbaks, putting on our bike gloves and adjusting the bike shorts that conveniently have extra padding in the seat area. It feels like you're wearing a pillow between your legs.

I'm sure it looks like that too, but I try not to think about that. It was enough drama just buying the damn shorts.

As we head off to the trail, I get nervous. When we head into the woods, I get more nervous. When we start to traverse very large and gnarly tree roots and other such terrain, I start freaking out.

Me: Baby, I don't know if I'm ready for this. You know I've never been biking on a trail like this before.
MB: You're fine. Just remember to down shift when you...(trailing off as he speeds ahead of me)

Me: Wtf!?!

As we continue on, the roots get gnarly and the terrain gets more difficult. I'm in full on panic mode at this point. I'm basically forgetting how to ride a bike, because I find myself barreling down the trail at full speed without any control whatsoever. Then, I freak out and slam on the brakes, propelling myself forward off the seat. As I'm standing there cursing and mumbling about how much I hate this and how MB never listens to me, I'm getting seriously freaked.

MB encourages me to keep going, reminding me about shifting and whatnot. At one point, I'm walking next to the bike. I decide that's not a good way to spend the next 7 miles so I hop back on.

We go through an area that requires a machete because it's so overgrown. Conveniently, we are without machetes and have to use our faces.

It's like exfoliation by thorn.

As I'm barreling down one section, I see this little bridge over a crick. We have already crossed a few of those and I was fine. This one looks a little narrow, but I should be okay. Of course, I'm flying down the hill towards the bridge at top speed but I should be fine. Right?

Not so much.

As soon as I hit the little bridge, I go just a little too far to the left and that's it. I'm tumbling over the side, into the muddy crick.


When MB comes to my rescue, I'm crawling out of the muck, cursing and crying and laughing. My legs are covered in mud. My ass hurts. My arm is a little banged up and my bike is in the weeds.

That's the resulting bruise on my arm. I would take a picture of the bruise on my ass, but I do have some standards. I will tell you that my ass bruise is five times the size of the arm bruise and currently contains all the colors of a rainbow.

We decided today that it looks like a portal through space and time.

I wish the colors in this image (courtesy of google images) weren't so accurate. Seriously.

It's also very uncomfortable to sit. I may need to get one of those plastic donut thingys.

Anywaytoosexyformyowngood, I gather my pride, wipe off some of the mud and resume the ride. After all, I'm rough tough. Or something.

I'm wishing I had filled my Camelbak with whiskey when I notice that my bike seat is not quite right. Actually, it's pretty effed up. So effed up that it won't even stay on.

I alert MB to this and discover that he has no duct tape in his little tool kit. Who's not prepared now?

We are forced to ditch the ride and walk back to the jeep. Defeated.

Thankfully, we didn't encounter any cougars or zombies.

Today, we went to the bike store to get a new seat for my bike. MB felt it was vital that we also get me a bike helmet. Apparently he's concerned that I may somehow fall and harm myself while riding my bike.

Imagine that.

As you can see, I'm thrilled about the helmet idea.

Our next biking adventure? Around the neighborhood. I'll be wearing my helmet, a plastic donut strapped to my ass and strategically placed bubble wrap.

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