So I’ve hit a bit of a weight loss plateau. The ‘Mohave Desert’ of plateaus, really. And naturally, my hubby the weightloss/fitness pro (so not) decided to impart on me his infinite wisdom.
“Mindy, you should totally mix things up a little bit. You need to try a different workout,” Jer explained.
“Jer, I always do different stuff. In fact, last night I did a Salsa dance workout. Do you know how hard that was? I had to have been dripping off the calories,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s all great and stuff but I think you should try something completely different, totally out of your comfort zone.”
Sigh. “Like what, Jer? Bull fighting? Fencing? Maybe barrel racing?”
“Um, no. I’m thinking you should try bike riding. Do the bark path at the park. I know it’s sure helped me up my fitness level,” Jer said, nodding his head.
Narrowing my eyes, I said, “Jer…you’ve ridden your bike, like,twice in the last three weeks. How can you honestly tell me that you’ve improved your fitness with bike riding?”
“Because I just feel better, in general. Plus, I plan on riding again really soon. Just, trust me. Try it. You’ll be shocked at how good it feels. Seriously,” Jer said. “You’ll love it.”
Okay, maybe he’s right. I should give this a try. Just possibly this is the shock my body needs toget going.
“Alright, Jer. You win. I’ll give it a whirl. Iused to love riding my bike.” When I was seven. But, given my propensity for getting bored really quickly, I was excited with the idea of somethingnew and different. I threwon some Lycra/Spandex pants, a sweatshirtand my tennis shoes.
Saying goodbye to Jer, I set out for the garage where my bicycle was awaiting me. I hopped on androde out of the garage, narrowly escaping a side swipe with the Expedition butalso exhilarated by the feel of the cool wind on my face and the warmth of the sun on my back. This was going to be really good. Really, really good.
I pedaled towards the bark path in the neighborhood park with a renewed spirit for fitness. I turned onto the path with verve and vigor andan energetic readiness to commune with nature.
And there is where the romance ended.
With each piece of bark my wheels rolled over my nether regions suffered a physical assault. My butt cheeks were screaming in protest at the sudden agony I had placed on them. I would shift a little to the left, shift a little to the right, attempting to ease the literal butt-slapping occuring with each bump of the road and rotation of the tire. I attempted to stop but that was even worse. Getting off the bike was harder than getting on. Each cheek was seizing into cramps, one right after the other, withevery step I took. So, I jumped right back on, determined to finish thistorture so I could go home and have a nice little chat with my hubby.
I can only imagine what I must have looked like rolling down that path towards home, hunched over the handlebars, sweat dripping from my determined face.
I managed to squeak out 30 minutes in agony before limping home. Gone was the exhilaration. Gone was the renewed spirit. Very much present was the bruised butt bone.
Folks, what I experienced was a new level of pain. Years of various exercises has gotten me sore feet, knees, quads, chest and arms. Thirty minutes on a bicycle got me a sore butt.
Rest assured, my butt has not been ultimately defeated. I’m not quite ready to give up thisidea of bike riding.As much as I hate to admit when Jer is right, in this case he kind of knew what he was talking about. Bruised buttocks aside,the bike ride most certainly did offer a newway to reach my desired fitness level.I will face this demon againbut next time will do so wearing padded underpants and loaded with Ibuprofren. And maybe a bigger bike seat.