last saturday, on a blustery wind-whipped day, I spent three hours on an indoor spin bike in a room with thirty other like-minded people.
it was the culmination of our 17-week winter "power camp," three fun-filled hours on questionable saddles, with loud blaring music, plenty of challenging intervals, and a small feast. yep, bagels, oranges, bananas, pretzels, and . . . girl scout cookies. water, too, of course, all served to us as we pedaled away, minute after minute after hour after hour.
and I really don't have too much to say about it, other than I feel obligated to mention the fact that a bunch of us nuts did it.
and as my daughters would say,
who does that?
probably not that many people.
now, 3 hours outside in the saddle, on our real bikes: no problem.
it's no problem because---as I experienced on yesterday's (outdoor) ride---the scenery changes. there are road hazards to avoid, little hills to sprint up and swoop down, chirping birds and the occasional barking dog. the air changes, too: a quick flash of cigarette smoke from the open windows of the car that just passed, the smell of coffee as I pass a hangout, a waft of baking bread. mulch, freshly trimmed grass, wood smoke from a fireplace.
just being in the sun-warmed air makes my heart sing, whether pedaling or not, pushing up a hill or not, swooping, or not.
but decision making is personal.
what works for one doesn't always work for another.
judgment is pointless, and thank God we're not all the same for as I've said many times, I don't really want the bike lanes to become any more crowded.
who does that?
I do. I do many things, I enjoy them, I'm grateful for them. I make choices---gosh are we ever lucky to be able to make choices---and I'm grateful for opportunities to choose one thing over another.
and I'm especially grateful for my saddle, my real saddle, when I get to sit on it out in the real world under a sunny sky.