WHAT THE HEY....
....I guess I'll start a blog. Been thinking about it and putting it off but hey, it could be fun. Suppose it turns out that people actually read me.
I am a biker. I'm a runner, too, and a hiker, and a triathlete, and a kayaker, and a Christian, and a mom and a wife and a grandmother. Yeah, grandmother, of 4, and 2 of 'em are teenagers. I am not a spring chicken.
I like information. I'd lose weight faster if I didn't spend so much time on the computer, but I can't help myself. It's like living in the library. So much information.... so many links to click on. Clicking on things is as addictive as bubble wrap. Maybe that's why I liked FarmTown so much. Thank goodness I don't do that anymore. Got to click to my heart's content but sure didn't gain much information. I did observe, however, how accurate the little cartoons of the growing vegetables were. I've grown just about every vegetable and those animations were great.
FarmTown was a fad. For awhile, everyone was doing it. You could be at the sports bar watching the game and someone would check their watch, say, "Oops, gotta go harvest my pumpkins," and LEAVE THE BAR AND THE GAME and everyone got it, no one thought he was crazy. Everyone was into it. And then everyone stopped. Weird.
I wish I could really grow all those vegetables. Right now I have cabbages (thought the little plants were collards... they were on the wrong shelf) and lettuce and spinach growing in bags of potting soil in the yard of the campsite where we're living in our camper for the winter. South Georgia. Okefenokee Swamp. Forgive me, but it's Nowheresville. It's 17 miles to the highway, and at least 30 from that point to anywhere else. It's flat and featureless. I'm using it to build base miles on my bike. It's improving me. My average pace has gone from 14.x to 16.x in 6 weeks. That's on flats. How I'll do when I get home to the hills remains to be seen.
So.... to haul my a** up those hills, and they are serious hills, I need to carve 20 pounds off said a**. There's this crazy bike ride I want to do. Called the Diabolical Double. It's a double metric -- that's 125 miles -- with 17,000 feet of climbing. It's, well, diabolical. I've trained for it before but then weenied out and just did the century (which was only 15,000 feet of climbing, or thereabouts.) That was 2 years ago. I'm 2 years older now. (Go figure.) This ride is on my bucket list. I'm not getting any younger. In fact, I'm apparently as young as I'll ever be.
And let me say right here, in regard to that, I do not want to get old. If I have to, I want to do it on my feet with my head on straight. But I do not want to get old and dwindle away and have my children fret about what to do with me while trying not to think how much easier it would be if I'd just croak. I would rather, as a new MFP friend of mine said to me in a private message, just keep doing bigger and brighter things until God says "You're done!" and >blip< I'm done. This is how a friend of mine recently went. My biking buddy. Ten years older than me, 71 years old and basically still in her prime, always trying something new, something harder. We rode crazy bike courses in the mountains of western Maryland. Stepped off a curb to cross the street and got hit by a car. Bump, you're done. It was an awful shock to everyone who loved her and I really miss her but.... she never had to get old. That's the thing. She left this earth still in her heyday. Way to go, Pat.
Lest this start to become maudlin, I'll stop where I am. I just knocked off a 35-mile bike ride (yes, flat, but windy) in a little over 2 hours. I'm pleased as punch. I can eat a 1,000 restaurant meal (which I plan to, tonight, at the diner that's the only restaurant within 50 miles in any direction) and still have calories left over if I have any room for them in my stomach, which I won't.