Freddie asked me to go on a bike ride with him this past Saturday. Actually, technically I think I said we should go on a bike ride.
Which is crazy because I don't even enjoy bike rides. Am I the only one who has these delusional moments where you seem to completely forget every past negative feeling on a certain subject and your brain tricks you into thinking you actually like said certain subject?
That's what happened to me this past Saturday. I was the one who said we should take a bike ride together. I mean why not?! Bike rides are great! (<<my brain in a delusional state). They're a fun way to explore our new city! (<<my brain deeper in the delusional state). Plus it's good exercise! (<<my brain disregarding the 100+ degree weather while in its delusion state).
Saturday came. We slept in. It got hotter outside. We got up. It got hotter outside. We decided to go on a bike ride around the park. It got hotter outside. I tried to get out of bike riding because Freddie can ride so much faster without slow me. It got hotter outside. Freddie played a mind trick on me and somehow convinced me a longer bike ride was the way to go.
Now what's a girl to do when she's bike riding with her bike riding loving husband in the Texas heat in the hottest part of an already hot day?
Every time the guy and girl pass a potential water stop the girl should always say they need to stop for water. Because heat stroke, hello. I'm already terrible at drinking water and I think we chugged three to four giant water bottles while out yesterday. Chugged. And never had to pee. Is that TMI? No. Look, I'm just trying to share my near death by biking dehydration experience with you all so I can help someone avoid this tragedy in their future. I straight up had a Cheryl Strayed Wild moment yesterday! No jokes! (except all jokes because I never ever ever could be that hardcore) (except I have ripped off lots and lots of my bruised toenails before, thanks pointe).
What else is a girl to do?
Bargaining is one of the five stages of grief, after all. And when you're outside for 4+ hours on a bike that hurts your freaking crotch (BUT FOR REAL) life kind of feels like a big ball of tragedy. Grieving is only natural and you should definitely bargain.
-Please God, if you let me survive this bike ride I promise I will start singing hymns instead of Rihanna songs.
-If I can just make it through the death rays of the sun, I promise I will almost always do a top notch application of sunscreen before heading outside.
-Body, I'm sorry I only drink 20% of the recommended daily intake amount of water. If you don't pass out I promise I will chug at least fifty gallons on water when we get home.
Bargaining may sound dramatic to you now, but once you're entangled in the pretzel ball of tragedy suddenly this will all seem very, very logical.
Four hours and twelve miles later, we got home.
Dripping in sweat.
Waddling (me) because bike seats (ow).
And I only chugged half a gallon of water (sorry for the broken bargaining promise, body!).
All in all, it was actually, kinda, sorta fun. I can say this now that it is only a mere memory and I am currently sitting in an air conditioned apartment drinking an ice cold water. Yes, I guess this bike ride was fun. Ish.