I only run when I’m being chased. I find the whole idea of going for a run boring and useless. I see the gym as a necessary evil. I hate mindlessly watching TV as I sweat and fight with the elliptical machine. Basically, I hate working out. To me, it’s not fun; it’s a chore. Love the results, hate the work. I like being active, but alas, I need a stimulating activity that doesn’t feel like I’m working out. Yoga, to me, isn’t a workout. It’s my time for stretching, meditating, breathing, and relaxing. I love it, and I see it as more of a hobby than a work out. I wish I could say I was one of those girls with a naturally high metabolism that doesn’t have to worry about working out. However, I’m not a “girl,” I’m a woman, and I have an extremely healthy appetite which, more often than not, leaves a nice soft package around my middle section. The point—I need to work out. Luckily I’ve found a sport that is an amazing workout, incredibly fun, and no matter how hard I try by eating and drinking a lot, keeps me looking and feeling great. Ladies, it’s cycling.
I found cycling by way of my husband-to-be, and I thank him for the discovery. I’d ridden a bike before, but I’d never cycled. Big difference. Riding a bike, for me, had consisted of an hour on a back road or bike path or down the street to the burrito hut in college. Cycling (also known as road biking) is wearing spandex padded shorts and jersey tops and weird looking shoes and a helmet and going really fast on an expensive bike. I had made fun of people who wore this attire in the past. “Athletes,” I called them under my breath. Nevertheless, when we moved to Seattle, the fiancé found that he loved cycling and wanted me to love it as well so we could do it together. Ahhh, sweet sentiment.
Turns out, I did love it. After several weeks of learning to ride a bike with pedals that one must clip into and navigating thirty-six gear options, hand signaling, and controlling speed downhill, I was indeed a cyclist. At first, my girl parts hurt horrendously. They felt as if I had ridden a mechanical bull for twenty-four hours straight. Needless to say, sex is out for the first few weeks of learning to ride, and don’t attempt it while on your period. But, every single time I went out for a ride, I felt an exhilaration that far surpassed the pain in my seat. (The pain disappeared after a time, anyway.)
