Thursday, January 5, 2012


Of course, it's not just about eating more vegetables. I would just like to make more of a general effort to do things that are salutary but won't make me miserable. "Lose 15 pounds" , for example, would just be a millstone though I could stand to shed it.

During the warm months, I was happily riding my bike 2 miles downtown to the gym. The ladies I'd become familiar with in my spinning class would gawk at me as I locked up my bike. "Whooo, girl, you must be a glutton for punishment." I laughed, what to say besides the robotic "not really"? What in the world is punishing about a quick sunshine-drenched (mostly downhill) bike ride? I wasn't exactly arriving via chain gang.

Having neglected the gym and, well, personal locomotion in general during the holidays, I was keen to sucker punch 2012 with my return to fitness. I buttressed myself against the cold (imagine a blanket fort riding a bicycle, basically) and pedaled downtown in the howling (5 p.m.) dark. You know what? It was not fun. I gave myself a wicked headache from squinting so hard against the advancing snowstorm and jaywalking drunk dudes tried to high-five me on my ride home nearly knocking me into the slushy gutter. Also, numb hands operating handlebar brakes. So I'm not going to try to get around on two wheels much this winter. Also, all-weather bike commuters, are you maybe gluttons for punishment? Ha.

I came home muttering about what I should have said to that sloshed pack of clowns. The right comeback always arrives too late (The Jerk Store called..) but I'd like to have a more evolved retort at the ready. Something better than, "HEY will you F*CK OFF PLEASE?" followed a steadying, slap of my palm to his chest for balance, for example.

Our not-warm apartment felt like a toasty ski lodge after a freezing (mostly uphill) bike ride. Nick had made grilled tofu and sweet potatoes with rice. Though starchy tubers aren't quite the roughage I'd had in mind for 2012, I'm not in the business of putting strings on delicious food that is somehow hot and plated the instant I walk in the door.


  1. Best meal ever.

    {I admire the all-season Minnesota bikers, but I know I'm not up for it.}

  2. My husband is an all-season rider, but we live in Maryland and his commute is 2.5 miles RT. I ride to my weekly yoga class and your description of a blanket fort riding a bicycle was so accurate I started giggling.

    I have nothing so far as witty retorts, unfortunately.