Biking in Burlington.

"I'm not going any further" I call out to Jeremy's receding back. "Jeremy!"

He screeches his bike to a halt and turns around. "What's wrong now?"

"I'm not going any further." I get off the bike and resist the urge to throw it into the bushes and stomp my feet.

"Come on - we're almost there and you're doing so well."

I know when I'm being patronised, plus we're not almost there. There's at least another mile of hill ahead of us and the 100 feet I've just done has near enough killed me.

There's a reason I'm wary of bikes. I have a habit of spontaneously and inexplicably catapulting myself over the handlebars and I am pretty much entirely without muscle. So when Jeremy suggested we get me a bike so that we could cycle around Burlington VT this weekend, I was apprehensive. "Will it be hilly?" I asked. "No." was the reply - "it's a lake-side city - all very flat". So against my better judgment I borrowed a bike from my friend's oldest son which we strapped to the back of the car and drove off up to Burlington.


It turns out that while Burlington VT is on a lake, the lake is in a valley and our hotel was not. Our hotel was at the top of the hill that led down to the lake in the valley. And while cycling down to the lake was fun and required more exertion of my brakes than my legs, cycling back to the hotel was less fun.

There are times when I hate my husband. There are times when I glare into the back of his head (these times are always when he is ahead of me on some excursion of some sort where my heart rate is required to go above what is comfortable), furious at him for being so frustratingly reasonable and nice and physically fit. (Furious at myself for being so unreasonable, annoying and embarrassingly unfit.) Cycling up hill in Burlington VT on a bike that was last owned by a sixteen year old boy, with Jeremy riding way ahead with mocking ease, was one of those times.

"Well what do you want to do instead?" He asks.

I consider asking him to go get the car to pick me up, but I don't much fancy waiting in the dark for him to return - plus I think his saintly patience might be wearing thin and he might just decide to leave me here. I weigh the amount of time it'd take me to push the bike back to the hotel vs the pain and anguish of riding back vs the fact that I need to pee.

I get back on the bike.

"There you go - I knew you could do it - you're more capable that you think" Jeremy says. I glower - refusing to let him see that while I know I'm being patronised, I like it all the same.