Thoughts on Biking

This morning, I woke up at dark-thirty to the sound of Spike's alarm clock telling him it was time for him to get up and go to PT. Blearily, I mumbled, "'sanoyyinlarmsound." Translation: "That's an annoying alarm sound." It is--this one's a very tinny "bee-bee-bee-beep! bee-bee-bee-beep!"

In response to my observation, Spike cheerfully replied, "Well, you only have to listen to it for 16 more years! Heh heh heh."

He's lucky I was half-asleep, otherwise I really would have zinged him with a withering comeback of some sort. As it was, I drowsily propped myself up on my elbows as he dressed, blinking owlishly to keep myself awake until he left the house. Then I promptly fell back asleep until a more decent hour rolled around. (Incidentally, Husband Dearest may find himself getting a new, more melodious alarm clock one of these Christmases if he's serious about keeping it until he retires from the Army.)

Actually, I should probably keep my mouth shut when it comes to getting up early. In a fit of optimism, delusion, or masochism, I told Spike recently that maybe once we PCS-ed--especially if we live on post near a fitness center--I might try to get up with him and go work out while he's at PT. In theory, it sounds like a good idea: I'd get the workout out of the way first thing, it would get my juices flowing for the day, and I could finish just in time to have breakfast with the Captain. On the other hand, IT WOULD STILL BE DARK OUTSIDE. On the other other hand, though, my workout regimen for the past couple of years has consisted of me walking to my car to go places.

That's started to change since I've been in Oklahoma with the Captain. We've been out to play tennis a few times (I succumbed to heat exhaustion/dehydration in the 107 degree temperatures the first time and spent the night alternately clutching my splitting head and bent over the porcelain god), and we've been riding our bikes around town in the evenings. So that's good.

This weekend, we stepped it up a bit and took the bikes out to the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Preserve. I have to admit, riding through the scrubby little hills was a lot of fun, even though it did drive home the fact that I am Out. Of. Shape.

We probably rode three or four miles, all told, during which I drank a bucket of water and stopped to walk just once. In my defense, it was on a hill that seriously wouldn't end. I carried my phone around in my sports bra (hey, might as well take advantage) so that I could take some pictures.

"Where can we go" indeed? Lots of places, apparently. There's an eight-mile bike trail in the Wichitas that I want to work up to.

A bike's-eye view. That's Mount Scott in the background, aka where the Captain and I got engaged.

On our ride, I discovered that whizzing down hills is just as fun when you're an adult as it was when you were a kid. I also discovered roadkill in a whole new, up-close-and-personal way. A rattlesnake, a squirrel, a pink digital camera (in pieces), and a single flip flop stood out. I also noted several cowpats and buffalo-pats. Honestly, I kind of hoped we'd ride past some longhorn or bison, but they were in a different part of the reserve that day. Probably for the best. The last thing I need is to be mauled by a pissed-off buffalo.

Yay! I had fun!

The Captain had fun too. Luckily for me, I enjoy looking at him from behind, because this was my view.

...unless he was pedaling quickly, in which case this was my view.

 You know, I could really see biking being a habit that sticks. It's enjoyable, allows you to see nice scenery, and is kind to your joints. What's not to love?