When life gives you lemons ...
Enter a bike race. Or something like that.
Since my hip still hurts, since I'm still rehabbing, since I can't run more than a quarter mile at a time, and since I need something on the calendar to work toward, I have signed up for a 36-mile bike tour.
A tour isn't a race, from what I understand. But I could be wrong about that. It's just a long ride with plenty of rest and water stops. The distances for this event are 18, 36 and 63 miles.
I'm lucky in that I'll be joined by my cousin Mary Jo and my Trek brother-in-law. We've agreed to the 36-mile route. Should be a fun way to spend an early Sunday morning.
Now, I've never ridden 36 miles. The farthest I've ever gone is in the 26-mile range. So I set out this morning for a longer ride. And I think I put on about 30, though I haven't mapped it yet.
Thirty wasn't as tough as I expected and I'm already wondering if 63 would be possible. I know my two accomplices would be game ... and better prepared for it since they've both done it and more before.
But maybe I should take one sip at a time of that big, tall, cool glass of lemonade.
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