The Continuing Saga of Bullet Hole’s Shape-Up Pledge—or Why I Needed an Inflatable Doughnut

You’re all familiar with the fact that I started on this ‘Shape Up or Spread Out’ campaign to get in better physical condition. Right? I’ve blogged about my first experience at the Fitness Center. My daughter still wears dark glasses, enters five minutes after me, and sticks her Ipod headphones in her ears and pretends not to hear me as a result. Can’t say I blame her. It must be pretty traumatic to see your mother extricated from one of the weight machines by the Jaws of Life. Okay, so I exaggerate. The point is…okay, so I forgot the point. I need my coffee!

Anyway, since the weather has warmed up, I decided to take my act on the road. Which means I take a walk every morning from 2-3 miles depending on whether I can afford to flop down on the sofa for half an hour when I return or not. I walk the same basic route every morning. And I walk in a cemetery. That’s right. The walk from my house to the cemetery and around it once is a little over a mile and a half. Why do I walk in the cemetery? First off, it’s peaceful. No one disturbs you there. And, if by some chance someone did? I’d get the best workout of my life by hauling my cookies out of there. Win. Win. I also like the cemetery because the grass is always cut with liberal use of the weed-eater apparent. By contrast, when someone says, “It’s a jungle out there,” I often think they’re talking about my yard. And probably the most compelling reason I walk in the cemetery? I don’t pass any convenience stores on the way where I might be tempted to stop and buy a Crispy Crème Doughnut or my personal favorite, the jumbo-sized frosted sugar cookie to nibble on. So, my walking program is up and running. Well, so to speak.

But we all know it only makes sense to diversify. You know. So you don’t get burned out or bored limited to one physical activity. So me? I selected biking! Why? Primarily because I already had the bike. A rather nice bike. A bicycle that was just like new—minus the cobwebs and flat tires, that is. So, one day my son and I got the bikes out of the shed and cleaned them up, and then hauled them to the gas station to get the tires aired up. I lubricated the chains and tested the hand brakes and speed shifters. We were good to go. Or so I thought.

We got on our bikes and headed out. You’ve heard the saying, ‘It’s just like riding a bicycle’ when referring to something you hadn’t done in a while but that you’ll pick up right away when you do it again. Well, that little statement doesn’t take into account certain morphological changes that take place over time. No. I’m not talking about evolution or adaptations, I’m talking about butt spread. And teeny, tiny bicycle seats. And how they are so not compatible. And I’m talking about knee joints that don’t work like they used to. (Think the Tin Man without his oil can here!)

We had just ridden a few blocks when I hit the first pothole and I knew I was in for trouble. By the time we’d gone several more blocks, my posterior was in a state of perpetual agony. Determined not to let my son know I was in distress in de derierre, I stuck with it until we finished our inaugural ride. Back home I looked at my son.

“I’m going to have to make some adjustments,” I said.

He noticed my heavy, labored breathing.

“What kind of adjustments?” he said. “An oxygen tank?”

Funny kid.

I shook my head.

“It’s nothing major. I just need to raise the seat.”

I have this freaky knee thing that requires me to almost fully extend my legs on the downward pedal strokes. I lifted the seat as high as it could go.

“You’re joking,” my son said. “That looks ridiculous.”

“I have really long legs,” I explained. “It has to be this high.” I got on and tried it out.

I now had to hunch over the handlebars like Quasimodo.

“I’ll need to raise the handlebars, too,” I mentioned.

My son shook his head.

“Ya think?”

I made the adjustments and then got back on the bike. My tippy toes barely touched the ground. I winced at the contact with the seat. “I just need one more thing and I’m good to go,” I said. “A new seat.”

He frowned. “That seat has hardly been ridden on,” he pointed out.

“It doesn’t exactly fit me,” I said.

“They’re not one size fits all?” he asked.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Not all of us were born without a butt like you,” I pointed out to my skinny kid. “One of my butt cheeks is bigger than that entire seat,” I pointed out. “I’m getting a new seat.”

I dragged the kid to the store and to the bicycle aisle. I stood there and stared in awe. I couldn’t believe what I saw. A bike seat with two gi-normous gel pads on it. Sweet! I selected one and stuck it behind me and ‘sat’ on it in mock bike-riding fashion. It felt like heaven.

“This is incredible! Who knew? Are you sure you don’t want one, too?” I asked thinking about the potholes and how he had zero padding to absorb the impact.

“An old lady seat? Forget it.”

“It’s not an old lady seat,” I told him. “This is!” I held up this super-sized, super-cushioned seat the size of a major league catcher’s mitt.

“What if the gel pads explode?” he asked and I frowned at the implication.

“They come with or without the pads,” I said, showing him. “I’m getting this one.”

He looked at the seat for a long moment.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll get one, too,” he said. “But just so you know, I’m telling my friends you made me do it.”

‘It’s just like riding a bike, Bullet Hole.’

To the person who perpetuated that treasured saying, I have a wee token of affection for you.

It's a ‘like new’ bicycle seat.

And it comes with simple instructions on where to stick it.

Have you taken something up after being away from it for a long time? A hobby? A sport? A club? Has it been a positive or negative experience for you? Any biking moments you care to share to get me psyched up for more biking? (Or scare me off it?)

Where do you enjoy walking? Do you walk daily? Carry weights and swing your arms and the whole nine yards?

Share and share alike!

~Bullet Hole~