Live Strong or Semi-Strong or Whatever Doesn’t Require Pedaling

When Luke suggested rather last-minute that we go to St. Simons for Spring Break, after I freaked out a little over the amount of laundry I would have to do to get us here, I started a mental checklist of all the things I wanted to do on the island.

1. Sleep late. {Check}
2. Go to the beach. {Check. But only once because it’s been pretty chilly.}
3. Sit in the jacuzzi tub. {Check, check, and check.}
4. Read lots of fluffy fiction. {I’ve finished The Desperate Pastors’ Wives and Matter of Wife and Death. Working on Katt’s in the Cradle.}
5. Spend time in the Word with no study agenda. {God keeps leading me to passages on praise. Appropriate for vacation week, yes?}

I’d done Numbers 1-5 by Thursday which left bike riding and a Caramel Apple Spice from Starbucks on the list. Being the multi-tasker that I am, I decided to hit both of those at one time.

Now, Starbucks didn’t appear to be¬†too far from the house but apparently my judgement was a little skewed by the fact I was reading the fluffy fiction books while hubby was driving. (And obeying all the speed limit and traffic signs, I should add. You can cheer, homies!) So yesterday morning I jumped on the bike thinking I could get to the Starbucks in no time, drink my Caramel Apple Spice at one of the picnic tables and generally enjoy a bit of solitude before the fam was up and moving.


I knew I was in trouble when I had been riding several, several minutes and passed a skateboard park that only takes 30 seconds to reach by car. I considered going back then, but visions of Lance Armstrong and Live Strong started dancing in my head and I convinced myself that I could do this thing.

I pedaled on.

And on.

And on.

I rode past parks, swamps, resorts, the airport, a fire department and I still wasn’t there. Just when I was beginning to cry, Luke called to soothe me by saying something to the effect of “would you mind biking across the bridge into Brunswick while you are out and picking me up a few things?”

Smart alec.

After I whined a minute, he agreed to come get me if needed but after all the laughing that was going on I decided, come pulled hamstring or unfortunate highway crossing accident, there was no way in heck fire I would humiliate myself by letting him. So, even though I could almost see the road I would need to turn on to get to the Starbucks., I decided to ride back home just to prove I could. And truthfully, at that point, if I went any further my chances were dicey.

Whoever said the trip home is always quicker than the trip there (or almost there) has never made that trip by bike. And to make matters worse, somehow I missed my little side street and ended up at the local elementary school before I figured out I’d gone too far. Add that to the list of town amenities I’d visited on my excursion.

I can’t tell you the joy of finally rolling into our driveway. The reason I can’t tell you is because I fell to the ground when I jumped off the bike because my legs were so noodly.

But not noodly enough to keep me from dragging myself to the truck and driving back to Starbucks like any truly civilized, lazy girl should have done to begin with.

Who says I’m not an athlete.

And a driven one at that.