The day I nearly died.

So just under a month ago, some may remember that I bought a bike in a bid to get fit. 

When I brought it, family and friends supported me by taking the mick, saying I'd never use it, and they were right. I haven't used it ... until today that is.  

 

In my defence, it hasn't exactly been the weather for it. I didn't fancy even leaving my house in the snow and ice, let alone riding a bike. Today for me however, saw the first day of Spring. It wasn't exactly a heatwave, but the sun was shining and it put me in a positive, motivated mood, keen to get out and do something productive in the sunshine. 

 

So, I decided to cycle to see my Nan who doesn't live too far away. Well I say not too far. Not too far in a car. It turned out to be four miles, which to the fit and healthy, really isn't too far but considering I actually haven't done any exercise for around three years, some may say this was slightly ambitious for my first time.  

 

Well. 

 

I can safely say it was the most traumatic experience of my life. 

 

Upon turning out of my road I felt liberated and free. The wind was rushing through my hair, the sun shining on my face. In my head I was Victoria Pendleton.

However, turning out of my estate, I hit a rocky patch. I had some serious doubts about whether I could go on. There was pain in my chest, I was breathing heavily, the wind was pelting me, causing tears to stream from my eyes. Should I turn back? 

No. I'd never hear the last of it. I'd be a laughing stock, a failure. No. I stoically carried on. 

 

They say no pain no gain right? 

 

I am in severe pain right now and I don't seem to have gained anything other than a harsh perspective of how disgustingly unfit I am. When I reached my destination, I felt sick to my stomach. For starters, I forgot my inhaler, so my chest is pretty destroyed right now and will be for a good few hours. As for my legs, they're surprisingly okay ... at the minute. I have a feeling I won't be able to move tomorrow, particularly after work this evening. Right now, it's the top of my thighs that hurt the most. Those saddles are just not very user friendly; it feels like I've been kicked in the butt a hundred times over by the England Rugby team. 

 

In the end, I cycled 4 miles in 45 minutes. That's 11 minutes per mile and I only stopped twice. I was pretty proud of this until my fitness buff brother informed me he runs a mile in 4 minutes; that's just showing off ...

 

Now I didn't make it home for fear of having an asthma attack but apparently bikes have gears and I remained in gear seven for the entire cycle. Apparently it's like a car, you move up through the gears. Who knew ...? I did wonder what those twisty things were in front of me and why it was such hard work just getting moving but hey, I never said I knew what I was doing, so I'm putting being unable to get home, down to this gap in understanding. 
 

Well, it's safe to say I won't be entering the Tour de France for the foreseeable future, but maybe next time I'll make it home at least.