This Sunday, I took up a challenge. My father's into biking and he bet me that I couldn't last on the route that he takes every week. He bikes downtown, from Edward Gardens. It's about a 25 km ride one way, and it goes all the way to Queen's Quay. The prize? Two more bottles of this glorious 1994 Rheingau riesling.
I kicked it up even more. I told him that I'd bike a return trip - 50 km total. And I accomplished it! The last 10 km was so, so painful. I fell off my bike too...flipped right over the front handle bar. Got lost, had to bike an extra 6 km. Completely exhausted and famished when I got back. First thing I had to do was drink water and eat. But I accomplished it.
I swear, whoever invented biking as a competitive sport was a masochist. You're just abusing yourself, and if you're a male, you know exactly what I mean. I'm hurting even now, 3 days later, in places that I don't ever want to be hurting.
This 50 km bike ride is the first and last ride I'm ever going to attempt. Sticking to jogging.