As I sit in my cubicle and stare at the moving trees and gray clouds, I have to wonder what made me decide to riding my bike. Each time I roll out of bed at 5:00 am so that I can pack my huge shell of a bag and foist myself on a tiny metal frame so I can speed unprotected amongst the streets of blind drivers, I think: are you crazy? Yes. But there is something rather great about it.

1.) I'm actually riding my bike the 3 miles to work, all of which is uphill on the way there.

2.) I can check out other people's houses easier and with more time then when I drive because I petal like a 70 year-old. My neighborhood is rad, by the way.

3.) The ride home is all downhill, so I make it much less time and really only take an additional 5 - 10 minutes than it takes me to drive.

4.) I spent $50 on gas last month. That's crazy for me, since I was spending $150 - 250 a month, which I know it could be higher if I was in Europe and all that jazz, but hey. I'm proud.

5.) I can sing little songs to myself like, "this is the way I walk my bike" and "bicycle" and other such things that I usually loath but think I'm being clever. Its 6:00 in the morning. Its a miracle that I can find my face, let alone do anything else.

In theory, this will help me get in a better shape.  I don't know why people are so insistent on what shape they're in, though. You always have a shape of some sort. Just because the rectangular shape is in style, or the ever so coveted hour-glass shape doesn’t mean I need to conform. I am of the oblong shape. Because, lets face it, I'm not quite round, and if I was, I wouldn't need a damn bicycle to ride to work.

One of the last times I took this little journey, I was walking my bike up a hill next to work and being passed very quickly by a 65 year-old man on his bike. Giving him the usual, "good morning", and he was not only not out of breath, but hadn't broken a sweat. My face, on the other hand, was about to burst into its own super nova. Think of the mess.

Don't get me wrong.  Part of me loves that and there is a flip-side to it as well.  I'm a fickle gym junky, meaning that sometimes I will go everyday for months, get irritated by the lack of change and stop going for a couple more months.  Just now, I came back from where I was trying to watch the silly TV, but was taking side long glances at the resistance chosen by the innocent bystander next to me.  She was young, slender and had good skin.  I wouldn't say that totally I loathed her for this, but I did get a mild feeling of elation when I realized that she was madly pumping a resistance of 2 to my 9. 

Then again, she isn't of the lovely oblong shape. 

Eh.

Popcorn?

Yes please!