Yesterday was our department's annual picnic. Nobody likes to go to these things, but we do it because it's a "team-building" event, and if you don't go at least every other year, you're not a "team player". Whatever. I do actually enjoy hanging out with the co-workers with whom I work on a daily basis, and we have been known to stage margarita nights, which are inherently fun. Anyway.
My co-worker Shannon is a biker (that's "biker" as in bicycle rider, not motorcycle rider. Any biker of either kind worth their salt will be quick to make the distinction). She thinks nothing of accompanying her husband on 50-mile rides throughout the Treasure Valley countryside. I can only hope to get that far some day.
During a group pow-wow around our boss' M'n'M jar last Wednesday, we were discussing the upcoming picnic at Lucky Peak, and Shannon mentioned that she and Jerry were going to ride out. Our supervisor Heather and I looked at each other and said "That sounds fun!" Pretty soon we were making plans to meet up on the Greenbelt and ride to Lucky Peak together.
On Saturday, I left my house 10 minutes late because I couldn't bag up hot chocolate chip cookies unless I wanted to end up with a chocolate chip cookie dough block. As enticing as that sounds, it might not go over so well for a group of people expecting dessert in the form of cookies.
[quick side note: I just got some granola out of the oven and thought it might make a good snack over yogurt. I put some yogurt in a cup and then spooned the granola over. It literally *sizzled*... woah...]
When I got to the Nat (our meeting spot) I texted Heather and Shannon. Heather was running late after unexpectedly staying up really late the night before, (she later admitted she was still eating breakfast when I texted her) and Shannon's car was taking longer than expected to get the oil changed (over 2 hours!). So I pedaled on ahead.
And boy was I glad I did. All of that huffing and puffing I did on the way over would have been really embarassing! It ended up taking me almost an hour and a half to bike 13 miles. I was disappointed to take so long and struggle so hard up the hills, but it was worth it because I am now determined to buy a better bike. One with gears. I should probably tell you at this point in the story that Heather arrived 10 minutes after me (on her mountain bike) and Shannon came soon after (on her road bike). It took Shannon about 45 minutes, and she had more miles to go.
The way back was a little better, probably in large part due to the refreshment stop at the golf course, but the section from where we parted to my house was extra, extra hard. I realized when I rolled into my yard that my front tire was losing air and only about half as full as it should be. Good thing I made it home.
I finally understand the look bikers give me when I tell them what I ride. "Cruisers are not real bikes."