Pedal pusher.

For the past couple of weeks a sore achilles has sidelined my running a bit so I've migrated over to the bike. In the past, I haven't really been able to get into biking, however this time it's been different, I'm really enjoying the change in pace and having a lot of fun. Adding to the new workout routine is the fact that I'm doing it all before work so that I can help take care of things around the house in the evening. I thought that transition was going to be harder than it really has been, I'm sure it's made a little easier by the fact that I'm not really sleeping anyway.

Generally my bike workout consists of rides of an hour to an hour and 15 minutes during the week—during which I pretty much go all out and hit some hills (yes there actually are some in Kansas, you just have to look for them). Then on the weekend I go for a longer ride—no less than 20 miles and close to two hours. I've been supplementing all of this by strapping Park in the baby bjorn and taking the dogs for a three-mile walk after dinner, all in the hope that it will wear all of us out. It hasn't worked. At least not for one of us.

Probably the funniest thing that's happened during my biking adventures (besides a couple of swallowed bugs and another embedded in my eye) happen right when I started riding. I went out one evening and had gone about nine miles when a truckful of high school "dudes" drove by and yelled "Hey Lance!" I didn't have a clue what they were yelling about, until I looked down and realized that I had mistakingly gone out in all yellow and black, the Live Strong colors of Lance Armstrong. At that point, I felt like a huge dork. Here I was struggling up 2% grades decked out like I was competing in the Tour de France on my mountain bike.

Needless to say, ever since I've spent a lot more time thinking about my wardrobe before I head out for my workout.