Attack of the Exercise Imp

I remember my first bike ride for fun after I moved to the Bay Area 18 years ago. I’d had the same mountain bike all through college and pretty much only ridden it for short trips around campus and town. I didn’t have, or know how to use, a patch kit. I didn’t have a quick-release rear wheel; this was great for locking my bike on campus, but not conducive to repairs. See what’s gonna happen here? My girlfriend and I went for a 12-mile-or-so ride around Contra Costa County, on rural roads through grazing lands and rolling hills. Just about as far from BART as our route would take us, my rear tire tangled with a 6-inch piece of barbed wire on the shoulder. It was a mess. My girlfriend had a patch kit and the knowledge to use it, but not the 15-mm wrench to remove my wheel! We walked to the nearest farm, and fortunately found someone willing to lend an adjustable wrench. After something like an hour of dealing with this, we were back on our way, having used just about all the patches we had. And then I had another flat. No need to go on; suffice it to say that that day was what my dad used to call an existential experience. I did eventually proceed to ride long distances (six years later, from San Francisco to Los Angeles!), but it took a little while to get back in the saddle after that debacle.

Is there some spirit of mischief that plagues people trying to set out on the path to a healthier, more active lifestyle? I ask because I think today it bit me again. This past week, I got my bike back in riding condition for the first time since last summer, and I took my daughter to her dance class along with the little guy in the double bike trailer. It went pretty well, though the ride back home, uphill all the way, was a challenge. I figured I’d have all spring to get in better shape, now that my bike is ready to go, I’ve found all the appropriate locks, etc.

See it coming yet?

So this afternoon, when we all decided on the spur of the moment to go to the library, I suggested we take the bikes. Husband and kids were all game, and soon we were off. No sooner did we get to the library, though, than the little guy barfed up his lunch in the parking lot. Oops! Was he motion-sick? He’d never had that problem before. We decided to hang out outdoors for a bit and see. Nope. More barfing. He’s just sick. I hung out with him outside the nearby supermarket, while DH got some dinner stuff and a roll of paper towels for cleanup. More barfing. We rode home slowly, checking on him constantly. He’s convalescing slowly in front of a video now, to take his mind off things. Or maybe just to make us feel better – he only seems unhappy for about 30 seconds longer than it takes him to have a couple of heaves. Thank goodness for small favors!

So I’m thinking, how long will it be before we’re ready to get back in the saddle for a family bike trip? Maybe, now that we’re pretty sure it’s not motion sickness, not too long. I will be packing a change of clothes and carrying that roll of paper towels and a plastic bag or two in the trailer, though! Maybe we can avoid the spell of the exercise imp and get past the mental barriers this time. Wish us luck!