Shifting Gears

Last night my husband tried to kill me with a $400 road bike.

(For you cyclophiles, it was this one)

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First, with the purchase amount, then with trying to explain how to use a gear shift that has TWENTY-ONE gears, and finally by making me attempt to ride it.

Heart, head, body. All took a beating in the name of self-improvement.

Because that’s what we’re doing this year. Self-improving. Officially, we’re training to ride in the Hotter ‘n Hell 100 10k this August, but unofficially we’re attempting to generally be healthier people since we’ll both be in our THIRTIES by the end of 2015.

Did I mention this is also the first year I’ve decided to start using night cream?

Apparently when you’re almost thirty, things expand. Your ass, your assortment of skin care products, the amount of gears you have to awkwardly slide between to accommodate the different speeds in your life. Oh, to return to the time when five gears seems liked three more than you would ever need to make it to where you wanted to go.