After we bought our house (more posts to come on that subject), my parents gifted Zane and I with some bikes. Okay, actually they just gave us their old ones that they were going to give to a thrift store.
Zane and I rode them one evening. Then we didn't ride them for a long time. Additionally, I have been feeling quite out of shape lately and not exactly excited about wearing my new romper, since it's kind of short.
Well, last Thursday afternoon, I needed to take something to my parent's house. I decided to ride my bike over there, because it's not that far, and I can just wear a backpack to carry my delivery. I needed to exercise and I was already feeling kind of sweaty, so why not go ahead and drench myself?
I put on my best bike-riding clothes, filled my backpack with the necessary delivery items (potting soil and two small planters), drank some water, and grabbed my keys, phone, and bike.
I live in Florida - the sunshine state. We're also known for our intense summer heat, especially at 5:00pm. When I was less than halfway to my parent's house, I realized that I was out of shape. Wait - I knew this already. The extent of my out-of-shapeness was evident. I was huffing and puffing (not huffing like huffing paint fumes, though), and my legs were mad at me for making them push those pedals down every time.
Then I got to a very large intersection (my house and my parent's house are separated by two major roads). As I approached the intersection, I saw one of those people who hold signs. I'm sure they're nice enough, but I'm a paranoid person, so I'm kind of afraid of strangers, especially ones who hold signs. However, I had no choice but to stop at the intersection and press the cross walk button and wait...next to the sign holder.
As I got off my bike, my body spoke to me in two ways: (1) seeing spots and (2) wobbly legs. I tried my best to breath deeply, stand firm, and look like I could defend myself if necessary. I smiled at the sign holder and between heavy breaths said, "Hey."
He was a young guy, probably my age. A little rough around the edges, but I wasn't too worried, until he opened his mouth. "Hey," he replied, "Nice engagement ring."
What? The first thing he did was look at my jewelry? Um, should I be worried that he wants to take it? "Thanks."
Awkward silence as cars whiz by.
I tried to be polite, "So, how ya doin'?"
"Hot. Tired. Thirsty."
"That's doesn't sound fun."
"No, it's not."
"But at least you have a job." Upbeat, that's me.
He continued, "So how long you been engaged?"
"Oh, I'm married."
"Oh, married. I thought I only saw one ring."
"Nope there's two, see?" Then I looked at his hand. Ring on left hand. Safe to proceed, "You married?"
"No, everyone always asks me that. It's a ring with a Bible verse on it."
Noble. Maybe I'm judging to quickly. Story of my life.
He continued, "By the way, you hit the wrong button." Then he pressed the correct button so I could cross the correct road. I'm lame, but even lamer when I'm exhausted from bike riding.
I managed to make it safely to my parent's house, but my sweet dad had to drive my home with my bike in his truck. He wasn't sure if I would make it home safely (neither was I, but I didn't tell him that).
P.S. After I got home, I remembered that the only thing I had eaten for hours was mixed nuts. Don't ever do what I did, kids.