IF I was going to go for a mountain bike ride then I had planned on this mellow little ride out in the green hills, amongst the daisies with flocks of sheep and the Von Trapp family skipping along singing. Or something like that. You know, a happy, easy little ride.
Instead I got talked into Carlmont.
There will be sheep all right, but more like a lamb to the slaughter.
What I know about Carlmont. It's a huge hill full of hazardous obstacles that one either drops off, or jumps over. Or being me, rolls into screaming, then flips over the handlebars of my bike, and dies.
I was assured that I could do Carlmont...probably... HOWEVER, the seatpost on my bike is all wrong, my helmet is wrong, and it would be better if I could wear something red so people can see me coming and not run into me. But most likely I will have fun. Maybe.
Oh, and the rock climbing girl gets all kinds of props, but me, I'm a tri nerd. The RCG has a mountain bike she's never ridden and suddenly she's the paragon of womanly virtues (and no I don't know what that means) and I'm the one that survived 19.53 miles at Sea Otter and all I get is "I thought you'd be better than you are." Yeah, whatever. What's so great about climbing rocks anyway?
And no, the above paragraph isn't suppose to make any sense whatsoever.
Hey look! Rain! If it is raining then no Carlmont, and I'm off the hook.
1 comment:
Yes Lizzie, I didn't get that at all! What the heck were you talking about? Only part I got there was the weather bit. The rest was just way over my head.
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