Yesterday afternoon my nephew called me.
“Aunt Meredith, do you want to go swimming with us?”
From there it became a 5 minute long conversation of, “when?” “Swimming!” “J, when?” “Swimming!” “No, J, when?” “Swimming!!” “J, put your mother on the phone.”
The kids wanted me to join them at the Y, where Amy and I would work out first and then join the whole family for swimming. I thought, well I can get in my nice easy run while Amy is walking beside me on the treadmill, then I’ll play with the kids for a while, and finish with my 2000 yard swim I had scheduled. After 27 years of having a sister, I should know there is no planning with Amy.
As I meet her at the Y she says to me, “do you want to take a cycling class with me?” Oh crap! I wasn’t prepared for a cycling class. Not only I had done an 11 mile threshold run on Monday, I only had a pair of running shorts with me. The class was small and not all that intimidating (you know what I’m talking about). The teacher was intense, though. She would say things like, “turn your dial to the right two times.” TWO TIMES! By the end of the class I thought I was going to throw up and had to spend the last 15 minutes just pedaling it out in the seated position.
You know, I have these grand plans: do a half Ironman this summer, do the full Ironman next summer, but I guess I didn’t fully think out what the heck I was getting into when I decided to make these plans. Truly, I haven’t been on a bike in three years. That includes not even taking a spinning class. And, oh yeah, I don’t particularly like to ride a bike. If I can’t handle a one hour spinning class, how in the world am I supposed to ride my bike for 7-8 hours and then run a marathon?
Today, I’m a little bit more nervous about all this than I was yesterday.