We All Have To Start Somewhere

I was lazy. Simple as that.  I won't call myself an athlete, but when I actually put forth any sort of effort, I am not that bad. I'm uncoordinated but I manage.

It was sometime in January when I realized the scale was moving rapidly in the wrong direction. Work had a lot to do with that. How? I work in TV Production and if you've every been on a TV set, you've heard the word "Crafty". Oh crafty... every child's dream. A room full of candy, chips, baked goods  (bacon, egg and cheese breakfast burritos in my case), and everything your heart could yearn for. Oh, there were fruits and vegetables in there too but I swear they were hidden, or maybe I just wasn't looking for them.

Anyways, that dang scale. It was haunting me and I knew I needed to do something about it. My coworkers were feeling it too, so we started a friendly weight loss competition. Put me up against anyone and I will do what I can to destroy them in competition. That's how mountain biking came back into my life. I went over to my dad's house and pull my old 2000-and something blue SPECIALIZED ROCKHOPPER out of his garage and took it out for a spin. I hadn't been on that bike since finding out I was pregnant with my now 5 1/2 (that 1/2 means EVERYTHING - if you have kids, you get that) year old daughter. I was rusty, heck the bike was too. I knew that if I was going to take this seriously, then I would eventually clean her up or upgrade (which I eventually did but we will get to that later).

I do need to give a shout out to my Dad. He's the one that got me in to mountain biking and I really need to thank him for that. Being his only child (of 4: girls-3, boy-1) who had any interest in:

A) Riding a bike
B) Being seen in public with their father;

He went out and bought me that Rockhopper, got me all the gear, and dragged me out into the mountains to ride with him. I have to give him some credit. He beat me up the hill EVERY SINGLE TIME (#!&$). A few times I was convinced he didn't know what he was doing (like the time he "fixed" my flat at the top of the hill, only to have it blow out on the way down causing me to crash into a VERY prickly bush). But somehow together we survived and the first time I got back on that bike after a 5 year hiatus, it was like I never stopped, and that burning desire to beat him up the hill is stronger than ever - stay tuned... it will happen!

Back on the bike, riding dirty!

Eventually I broke down and bought a bike rack for my old Yaris. 

My daughter, though grown accustomed, was grateful.