Being active (aka working out) is something that I never thought I’d see myself doing. Chock it up to my terribly fast metabolism and my youthful ignorance. Isn’t it crazy how we think we’re indestructible during our teenage years through our early twenties.
My mom always told me that “life” would catch up to me. Silly me. I didn’t know what she was talking about.
Alas, time has caught up to me. I can no longer chow down on nachos all weekend and still remain the same weight on Monday. In fact, I see a slight weight gain nearly every time I go off the rails eating all the things.
The very unfunny part of all this is if I eat right for weeks on end, my weight remains the same. I mean, I’m not surprised, seeing how I sit at my desk all day. The most exercise I’d gotten previously was walking from the car to the dog park.
The pups didn’t seem to mind too much. More to cuddle with, I guess.
Last winter after a brutal wake up call doing a “casual” hike in Seattle with some family, my husband seemingly randomly decided that he was going to take up cycling.
The forever positive side of me was super encouraging… to him. But at the time, I thought: “ MEH, riding a bike isn’t for me.”
But the more I saw how much fun Brent was having (and all the weight he was losing enjoying himself), the more I thought: “Heh, maybe I’ll give it a try.”
The Moral of the Whole Thing?
5 months and two bikes later, I’d have to say I’m starting to really get into it. There’s something about zooming down a hill you just hustled your way up that’s exhilarating.
Plus, I feel super badass in my cycling gear. Like super professional.
And since cycling is something I can do at my own pace, I don’t feel the nasty comparison monster creeping up on me like he did with Zumba and Yoga.
It’s just me, my bike, and the open road.
Am I good at riding a bike? Who knows! I’m just here enjoying the little moments in life that seem to mean something.