Life sucks, then I Ride

It just occurred to me that I can, indeed suck at everything I try. And I should embrace it and just become a couch potato and buy more lottery tickets, because right now those scratch off may have a better chance at daily income.

My family is riding bikes more and I figure this is probably the only physical activity I can beat my boys at. (as i laugh evilly) Guess I missed out on the nurturing mother thing. But surely I can ride faster than a little eight year old and a fat old man. (no hate mail, he refers to himself as fat, old is just reality which I feel the need to point out constantly. Oh, I’m teasing… Besides now I can smack him at his personal self reference because he’s all skinny and cute.)

But back to my drama. Bobby hasn’t ridden a bike since the late 70’s. (y’all get my “old” reference now huh?) so we start riding and I was actually slightly concerned that he might fall or become winded or something awful and I would have to nurse him back to health. And as you can tell from this, I’d suck at that.

So we start riding and Bobby turns into the energizer bunny. Our son is right behind him, whiny the whole time but keeping a good pace. I, on the other hand, am like a mile back, cursing more and more with every wheel rotation. Bobby doesn’t even break a sweat. How is that possible? So I try to comfort myself. I just need time, the more I ride, the better I’ll be. Ect. Ect

We’ve been riding a month and I think I’m getting better. Bobby and Nicholas tells me how much better I get each ride which is sweet in a condescending patronizing way…

In the middle of our last ride I hear a voice in my head, He asked if I thought I was riding better? I grinned “yes I am.” He replied,” yes you are, but so are they. Mahaha” (yes I often hear voices in my head but they aren’t normally that cruel. Damnit!)

It never occurred to me that If I get better the more I ride, they are too. Damn. Damn. Damn. I didn’t think of that. So bottom line, I’m screwed.

All my life I been saying I don't want special treatment but with two floundering businesses and hearing “Mommy, your riding is getting better.” I’m going over the edge people.

I now believe when biking my boys should treat me like the delicate flower that I am and throw all future races. I don't care how. Ride in the grass. Take up jogging, ride with one leg behind their back. Ya know, anything to flatten the riding fields.

I decided that someone should hire me and pay me an obscene amount of money to do nothing. Not because I’m qualified or talented, just to meet their status quo. Just because I’m handicapped. And they should seek me out. I’ll be on my couch eating bon bons watching reruns of 24. Bobby just lets me rant because he knows tomorrow something will happen and I'll snap out of my pity party.

And of course the next day is better. I ride 5 miles in a hour. It aint no lance Armstrong but kinda cool. I sell a few more manuals than I did the previous day with our side business. And for my "career" it's another long shot but someone told someone told Robyn that their boss is looking for a speaker for a school district. I think I have one good toe let that I can shove in the door, hoping for a chance to prove myself.

And just like that, my goals that I’m striving to meet by the time I’m 40 seem reachable again. It’s too bad I won't be able to reach Bobby and Nicholas' goal. Bobby wants a better bike so he can ride longer. Nicholas wants a bike with more speeds so he can ride faster. Gee boys, I’m sorry I don't think we can budget for that… I’m too stubborn to give up my goals but I aint stupid, buying them bikes would be self-confidence biking suicide. I can hear it now..

“Mommy you bought all new appliances but I can't have a hundred dollar bike? One pedal is broken and I have to readjust the chain every 34 cycles.”

“Life’s rough kiddo.” as i yell to him on the bike trail... behind me... a mile back.