Bike Adventures.

II don't know if I've ever mentioned this, but my ACL is currently torn due to this jerk player on the other team during our first soccer game of the season.  Which means I'm not allowed to run at the moment (Hallelujah! It's terrible. ). I am, however, allowed to ride my bike, so I've been doing that

A LOT.

Bike to church, bike to a friends house, bike to Kroger (that's my most frequent trip. I think the Kroger people are starting to judge me. Um, excuse me ma'am, weren't you here like 2 HOURS AGO?? Which is probably totally accurate.)

Sometimes I just bike for the fun of it.  Last night I had this killer headache (thanks segment 2) and it was about 105 in the house so I went to the garage to assess the bike situation.  Because I don't actually have a bike, I just use whatever's available. (Usually someone else's bike.)  That's when I discovered that my dad had put his bike waaaaaayyyyyy too high and my brother had put his waaaayyy too low, and the only other option was my mom's bike hanging in the back of our extremely messy garage. So i thought, 

"That looks like a lot of work. I'm just going to go back into the house and eat some food." 

Forreal, it's no wonder 99 or whatever percent of Americans are obese, with habits like that. 

I want you to know, however, that I was not about to become a statistic. Noooo SIR! So what did I do but dodge, dip, duck , dive, and dodge my way through that mess. And I grabbed that bull by the horns (bike by the handlebars) and pulled it right down off those ceiling hooks . .  . and onto the floor. Well, mostly. The other part was on top of/embedded in or old CD/cassette tape player. Not in riding position. I considered a container of Chobani and some well earned rest.  

But then I stopped considering because HELLO, anti-obese-America effort! I guess my intense passion for the cause gave me strength I didn't know I have, because before you know it I had that bike over my head like Superman or something, weaving between boxes and gold clubs and stuffed animals and bags of old clothes and tools and other bikes and shovels and bubbles Nd WD-40 and paint cans and chalk and basket balls and bottles and rope and that heeuge boom box (remember that torn ACL?) and finally into the driveway. 

Where I hopped onto my bike, jammed back the kickstand , and kissed Fat America goodbye.

Love, Allie