Warrior Princesses Bike to Work

You know when you see an amazing dress on the rack and you go to try it on and it just doesn't look that good on you?  ...But you like the thought of it so much you buy it any ways.  That's what biking feels like to me.  It's a forced friendship and it's not coming naturally.  But I really want to love it.  I have been wanting to ride my bike to work for ages now, but fear was totally holding me back.  I was scared I would get hit by a car, that I would get lost, and that my ass was just too fat to be pedaling up that massive hill on my way home.  But last week my cycling Aunt accused me of making too many excuses, so I did what anyone would do -I proved her wrong. (which was probably her intention all along.)


I left the house at 7:30 this morning and it was a nice sunny day, but the air was crisp.  I didn't realize how crisp until I was cruising down some big hills and my poor little fingers were absolutely frozen.  I literally had no idea how cold biking makes your fingers.  It was painful.  By the time I finally got to work I was sucking my thumb like an awkward adult just trying to warm it up before frost bite set in (dramatic, yes)


My journey to work was not uneventful.  The part of the trip that I thought would be relatively stress free was not at all.  Tram lines dissecting the road were a perfect wheel sized trench for my tires to get stuck in.  However, I only let it happen once, and then I was tackling all tram lines with aggression.  I proceeded to get lost in the city center while trying to avoid some bigger, unnecessary hills but made it to work with time to spare.  


The ride home was more stressful because it was rush hour, and I'm sure drivers were cursing me and the Duchess as we plodded along.  I felt like such an amateur when Lycra clad bikers were tackling major traffic and zipping by me.  I nearly got hit by a car as I wrangled those damn tram lines again.  But I made it to safely to my last major hurdle, Loxley Road.  Here the traffic slows from city to country, shops fronts are replaced with fields of horses, and the incline gets steadily more intense.   In the beginning I told myself, "I'm alright, it's not as bad as it looks."  But as it soon got to be as bad as it looked, I had to drop a few F bombs in my head and remind myself that I was in fact, "a mother fucking warrior princess." And warrior princesses do not give up and they have super strong, (sexy and toned) thighs and they're fit and bad ass (and have nice asses too).


So did I make it to the top?  You betcha.  By the time I finished I looked more like a purple people eater than a fit and fabulous warrior princess, but what an enlightening feeling reaching the peak was!  I conquered my fears, I cheated death, and the only thing that seemed to be injured besides my ego was my badly bruised beaver (if ya know what I mean).  Not bad for a Monday.


And so I will keep trying to learn to love my two wheeled vehicle.  I will burn calories instead of gas, and feel empowered by the strength of my body and my independence from unreliable transportation.  But honestly, I probably won't do it everyday.