It's Like Riding a Bike… Or Not…
I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned it before, but earlier this year, I decided I was going to do a triathlon. I was super excited except for two things. I didn’t swim and I hadn’t really ridden a bike since middle school.
But not to worry, I thought. I would take a swimming class (which I ended up doing with @ballstrap and @gloriakt — and it was AWESOME + I can swim better than I have ever swam before in my life) and then sign up for a triathlon class to learn how to ride a bike again.
So I bought a bike, and decided that day to give it a whirl in the driveway.
Thinking I was a badass (which I have learned time and time again that I’m not*… so I don’t understand why I keep thinking I am), I bought the clip-in shoes. For those of you who don’t ride – your shoe attaches to the pedal. After falling three or four times because I couldn’t get my feet out from the pedals (nor keep my balance), screaming my head off with Justin looking aghast, I finally figured it out… kinda. I don’t know where the saying “it’s just like riding a bike…” came from, it’s total CRAP. Riding a bike as an adult is soooo not the same as riding a bike as a kid. You know the names of bones that can be broken, you’ve had friends who have broken those bones by this point in your life — you are AWARE of the fact that you aren’t invincible.
I didn’t end up doing the triathlon, which sort of pisses me off. I’m not a quitter and I’d rather suck at something and at least complete it rather than commit to something only to back out — regardless of the reason (oh which I did have a good reason, but neither here nor there… I was a quitter). But 2010 — look out. I’m going to figure out how to ride my bike without falling off (and being scared the entire hour I’m on it) and then I’m going to run three miles AND swim a half a mile. So take that, bike. You’re going to be my B***h. And, um, anyone, please feel free to help me figure out how to ride my bike without the fear of falling 
*So, not to take away from the bicycle story, but there was this one moment of badass #fail I totally have to share. About four years ago, Justin and I decided to get roller blades and get fit blading around the neighborhood. As a child (remember, I’m thinking I’m still an incredible 12-year-old fearless kid here), I remember doing spins in the air, jumping over crap, all sorts of stuff in my roller blades. And I thought I could do it again.
So as I’m flying in the air, staring at the really blue sky — there was this two-second moment where I came to the conclusion that I’m old. Not super old. Just too old to be doing this. And then I slammed my back against the road. Oh, did I mention that my badass self thought “I would be fine” and didn’t buy a helmet? As my head hit the concrete, it was luckily kept safe by the alligator hair clip I used to pull my hair back.
I started laughing uncontrollably (this whole ordeal still cracks me up), while Justin thought I suffered a concussion or something and I lost my marbles. But I got up, and not being the quitter, kept skating, even though my whole body felt like it had been run over by a car.
You may think the story is over (as it is, this post script is already getting way too long), but I forgot to mention another detail — I forgot how to use roller blade brakes. In fact, as a kid I would just do this side-move thingy to stop. So, adult Jenni thought it would be a good idea to just walk into the grass when I wanted to stop.
Which worked twice, until this car was coming and I had to hop out of the way… and completely missed the grass, hitting the concrete and then sliding across it with my bare thigh.
Oh, because I think I forgot to mention this part of the story — along with the no helmet, I was also wearing shorts.
And to make my mortification complete, my neighbors saw the whole thing, the person driving the car stopped and was laughing their butts off, and I needed Justin’s help getting back to the house.
And then had to take the next day off because I was in so much pain.
To be honest, I don’t really know what this has to do with @fatroll, it’s really just a funny exercise story. But I think I do have a point. YOU ARE NOT 12 ANYMORE.
Whatever stuff you were capable of at a young age, you are no longer really able to do well now. We want to be able to hit a baseball as far as we did in middle school/high school, run as fast as we did when we were eight and our parents were chasing us — but we can’t. It’s sad really.
Try it for yourself — do the monkey bars at a playground sometime. I did. My hands hurt for days, and I couldn’t even get to the third bar. Or try doing a cartwheel — or a one-handed cartwheel. Your inner thighs will be hurting for days if you’re able to pull off even one.
Blame hormones, added weight at the top of your body (thanks, boobs), whatever. It just stinks. Life was so much better when you had no responsibility, but I think that topic is for another post (and probably on my personal blog. Haha).
