騎死了！

New Format: For all four of you who read this blog, what do you think of the new format?  Do you like it?  Prefer it to the old one?  I used one of the new templates Blogger provided, although sadly it's not nearly as customizable as I had hoped, especially considering their touting this in the introduction as a big step in personalization.  For example, you have to choose from one of the stock photographs for your background, rather than uploading one of your own.

And now for the engaging, witty tidbits from my life that you have grown to love over the short time we've been together.  Or hate, although I doubt you would still be here if that were the case.  Either way, today's monologue begins last Friday.  It was a drab and dreary day in the office, although bright and cheery without, high in the mid-80's, sunny, breezy, and replete with all the makings of a gorgeous summer day.  The treasury group started the day already down two people, who had previously succumbed to erstwhile fantasies of the Bahamian beach, or possibly just the backyard barbecue.  Another coworker left shortly after lunch for a weekend in Chicago.  Business or pleasure?  Why, pleasure, of course.  By the time 1:00 rolled around, the ravages of a midsummer weekend were all too evident, and I, even I, gave in to temptation.  Actually, I had a meeting at another building at 1:00, and I had a sum total of nothing to do when (if) I got back, so I let my boss (one of the brave few who struggled through the afternoon) know (he was very supportive of my lax ways) (rather a lot of parenthetical asides, eh?) and left for home after the aforementioned meeting.

Upon arriving at said domicile, I decided (entirely within the bounds of reason, you would no doubt believe) to make the most of the beautiful July day by going on a bike ride.  There are three lovely lakes a short distance from downtown Minneapolis, and those were my ostensible targets, although I never actually fixed a permanent destination in my mind.  My estimated trip time was approximately three hours, an hour and a half there and back, looping around each of the lakes.  *Spoiler alert: I wouldn't have included the initial estimate if it wasn't far wrong!  More spoilers: I didn't take my wallet (who would need to on a couple hour bike ride?) or a granola bar (I thought of it, though).  I did, however, take a trail map of the Twin Cities and my iPhone (with accompanying GPS and music, of course).  The first hour was pleasant.  I had already biked these trails, and the rousing chords of the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto accompanied me for a ways, followed by the violin concerto of the composer of the same name (who also happens to be the same composer).  Following this, I came to new paths that afforded more views of the delightful Minnesota countryside.  One of the side benefits of being here for the summer.  I came to Medicine Lake and followed its shore for a couple miles, and I finally reached Cedar Lake, the first of the three downtown lakes.

Whereupon followed tactical error number one: it had taken me slightly over an hour and a half to reach the first of the lakes, let alone bike around them and head back, and yet after I refilled my water bottle at a drinking fountain I felt poised to achieve yet greater heights.  And thus I reasoned that I could cut down on time by skipping the lakes and going straight downtown (only five more miles), then heading back up home by another route, at the same time biking along the Mississippi and experiencing downtown from a bike!  Brilliant.

The actual ride to downtown was very nice, mostly flat and tree-lined, optimistically designed for the bicycle commuter.  Cynicism aside, I would belong to this privileged class in a heartbeat, circumstances allowing.  Nevertheless, the trail was wide and accommodating, and downtown was mostly positive from a cyclist's perspective.  There were many bike lanes, and cars were respectful of me and the many other bikers out and about.  After muddling around for a little while (and realizing the folly of having left my wallet at home), I made my way to the Mississippi and biked up it, finally ending at my self-styled halfway point, Nicollet Island.  At this point I stopped to lie on the grass and contemplate the situation in which I found myself.  It was 5:30.  I had left home sometime between 2:30 and 2:45.  That meant I had been biking for almost three hours, and home was at least that far away, probably longer as I wasn't as fresh.  And I was starting to get hungry.  A far cry from the three-hour-back-in-time-for-dinner ride with which I began!

In dire straits such as these, however, my perpetual motto remains, "Chin up!"  And so I proceeded to lie there for 15 minutes with my head back and my chin towards the sky.  Following that, I began the long haul home.  About 45 minutes into this ride (approaching Cedar Lake once more), my legs, unaccustomed to such continual heavy use, gave out and I stopped to refill my water bottle and give quarter to my unrelenting legs.  Cramps don't even begin to describe my thighs!  After ten minutes of sitting there and briefly considering asking people at the park for a ride home, I told my legs who was boss and carried on.  Twice more on the return journey I likewise disembarked, but each time I was spurred on, partly by my Jazz History playlist (thank you, Dr. Harker!).  The last time this happened was around 8:00, nearly back to the trails I had traversed before and about an hour from home.  As I lay there faint with hunger (not a bite to eat since lunch around 11:30, remember, and this after over 5 hours of riding) and with aching legs, I wished for the Totoro cat bus (if you've seen the movie) to carry me home.  Nevertheless, I got back on my bike and was determined to remain there until I fell over or arrived home, whichever came first.  There were at least two prayers offered in my heart as well.  The last twenty minutes were actually easier than much of the rest of the ride, possibly because my legs were finally resigned to their fate of forever pumping up and down.  Or because my prayers were answered (they definitely were).  Anyway, I got home around 9:15 and pretty much collapsed in a chair and then decided to eat dinner.  Matt and Chaune were on a date and Madison was at a sleepover, Christian was asleep, and the other two were gone, so it was me and the dogs.  They got back from the date and went to bed, and I sat on the couch in a stupor.  About 12:30 I woke up, having fallen asleep in a most awkward position, and took a shower (not surprisingly I was pretty pungent) then went to bed.  Surprisingly, I wasn't sore the next day, despite being nearly crippled afterwards.

So, a six and a half hour ride on low fuel.  I refilled my large water bottle four times and downed it all (maybe a gallon) without ever using a bathroom, which means I must have sweat out a considerable portion of it.  It wasn't as bad as I've been making it out to be, though; my derriere isn't even sore.  Maybe I'll do it again this Saturday!

English title: Death by biking!