Today I biked eleven miles. On an old cruiser/roadbike hybrid-esque bike. Pulling a trailer. With a four year old in it. And her snacks, and two blankets and stuffed animal, and my small bag, and water. I’m giving myself a 50 lb pull credit on those eleven miles!
I intended to make a 8 mile loop from home, the first stop being dropping the boy off at school then just toodling from there on the many paths in town. I don’t bike. I haven’t ridden my bike in months. If I would have followed my intended route I would have been fine. A good, fine, sweaty, endorphin-ed up lady. But no. Of course not…I just had to keep going and by the time we were about a mile from home I could hardly sit because my ass hurt so badly and I could barely pedal. So. Slow. At. The. End.
The activity felt great, just wish I would have done what I intended. But, wait – what can a little more hurt? I feel fine! Never mind the wind picking up and creating more drag on the barely being pulled trailer. Forget the fact that there was no food consumed prior to the outing.
I prefer to do life as it comes. And that generally works. BUT. For a girl in her early thirties with pretty severe hormonal problems and a spare tire around the middle that only seems to be growing, I think I need to challenge myself to smaller ideas when it comes to exercise – better planned/thought out ideas – prior to execution.
Stop. Make a plan. Follow the plan. Be happy with completing the plan.
Tomorrow’s gonna be a bitch.