Wimpy biker.

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Got me walking, at least.

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Challenging a piece of blacktop.

Today I went for my first bike ride of 2008.  I rode to the grocery store to buy some garlic bread and spaghetti sauce for dinner, and then I rode to the post office to drop off a birthday card for my mom.  Now I am not the most confident biker in the world, in fact you could say that I am clumsy and uncertain.  I am made nervous by the bike lanes, or anything else that is an established part of cyclist culture, and I’m not very good about hand signals because I fear if I take my hands (even one) off of the handle bars my face will very quickly meet the pavement.  I’m terribly out of shape.  After I hit the half mile point my body turned to me and said, “And honey, what are these?  Muscles?  Why didn’t you introduce us sooner?” And then my body and my muscles exchanged email addresses and continued their flirtation there.  I would like to start riding my bike to work, but I’m nervous.  Madison is the best city for biking (so they all say) and while this fact should put me at ease, it really makes me feel like there is this elite bicyclist in-crowd and I am not part of it.  True bicyclists can sniff out a wobbly amateur from miles away.  But I won’t be intimidated for too long, no.  It’s on, bike path.  It’s on.

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    Breena Wiederhoeft
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