see my basket?
Monday, 20 June 2005
Friday, 10 June 2005
me and greenie
I have a bike.
A dream bike.
Light green (some may call it 'mint'), 3 speeds, circa 1970-something, old lady bike.
Free from my nice acupuncturist Laura.
I spent yesterday deep in the zen of cleaning her up. SOS pad, bucket of soapy water, rags -- cleaning off ancient mud on the wheel rims and scrubbing years of 'left out in the rain' rust. She looks pretty good.
And I am happy to report I just took her for my first spin. I was waiting, bored, on a beautiful Friday evening for Mark to get home from London. Already ate dinner. Nuthin on TV, bored with e-mail, laundry in the dryer, and light for 3 more hours. Dang, I'm going for a bike ride.
I bravely (remember my diatribe on cycling in Cambridge!) rode around my neighborhood, to the train station, around southern Cambridge, through the Mill Road cemetery (which I think that is going to be a fav) and EVEN tackled my Mill Road bridge fear (where busses and cars wiz by within an inch of one's life.)
But most of all, I really flashed back to the days when I was anywhere from 8-15 when the bike was the ticket to freedom. Cruising around Hales Corners -- KMart for Icees -- bumming around the schools -- checking out anything that resembled action. It was the after-supper bike ride when you just wanted some wind in the hair and to breath in summer. It helped that I was wearing flip flops and my new £2 apple green poncho to make the trip back to yesteryear.
Dang if I aren't proud of myself, and I know that sounds funny, but it is just a bit more stepping out and one step closer to my original vision of me in Cambridge, basket full of flowers and a poetry book, riding an old lady bike by the river -- long hair flowing. Maybe I can just get hair extensions and cut to the chase.
A dream bike.
Light green (some may call it 'mint'), 3 speeds, circa 1970-something, old lady bike.
Free from my nice acupuncturist Laura.
I spent yesterday deep in the zen of cleaning her up. SOS pad, bucket of soapy water, rags -- cleaning off ancient mud on the wheel rims and scrubbing years of 'left out in the rain' rust. She looks pretty good.
And I am happy to report I just took her for my first spin. I was waiting, bored, on a beautiful Friday evening for Mark to get home from London. Already ate dinner. Nuthin on TV, bored with e-mail, laundry in the dryer, and light for 3 more hours. Dang, I'm going for a bike ride.
I bravely (remember my diatribe on cycling in Cambridge!) rode around my neighborhood, to the train station, around southern Cambridge, through the Mill Road cemetery (which I think that is going to be a fav) and EVEN tackled my Mill Road bridge fear (where busses and cars wiz by within an inch of one's life.)
But most of all, I really flashed back to the days when I was anywhere from 8-15 when the bike was the ticket to freedom. Cruising around Hales Corners -- KMart for Icees -- bumming around the schools -- checking out anything that resembled action. It was the after-supper bike ride when you just wanted some wind in the hair and to breath in summer. It helped that I was wearing flip flops and my new £2 apple green poncho to make the trip back to yesteryear.
Dang if I aren't proud of myself, and I know that sounds funny, but it is just a bit more stepping out and one step closer to my original vision of me in Cambridge, basket full of flowers and a poetry book, riding an old lady bike by the river -- long hair flowing. Maybe I can just get hair extensions and cut to the chase.
Friday, 3 June 2005
fat camp
Yes, Fat Camp.
I am in it.
Ok, they are more PC than that and call it "Fit Camp", but we all know what they mean. It is a 6-week program at our fab health club ... health club meaning better than a regular old gym. And I will partake in 3 or 4 sweating sessions a week, plus 50% off of Fit Club menu items in the lounge. (Told you it was a swanky gym -- we HAVE a lounge.) Plus a healthy eating schpeal and meeting with the girls in the group once a week.
Seems ok so far, except they have actual Fit Camp t-shirts that we are supposed to wear. Um, no thanks.
I was a brave today and was measured, and assessed and weighed today by pert Becky. Somehow, when the number is in kilograms, it seems ok and not relateable.
Wish me luck, and be forewarned, I may use this as a venting tool to describe my dislike for movement.
I am in it.
Ok, they are more PC than that and call it "Fit Camp", but we all know what they mean. It is a 6-week program at our fab health club ... health club meaning better than a regular old gym. And I will partake in 3 or 4 sweating sessions a week, plus 50% off of Fit Club menu items in the lounge. (Told you it was a swanky gym -- we HAVE a lounge.) Plus a healthy eating schpeal and meeting with the girls in the group once a week.
Seems ok so far, except they have actual Fit Camp t-shirts that we are supposed to wear. Um, no thanks.
I was a brave today and was measured, and assessed and weighed today by pert Becky. Somehow, when the number is in kilograms, it seems ok and not relateable.
Wish me luck, and be forewarned, I may use this as a venting tool to describe my dislike for movement.
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