Puking.

Okay so not having REALLY ridden my bike in 3 weeks had an effect on me. I was all gung-ho to meet BGW (Beer God's Wife) to go biking since they live about, oh, 1/8 mile from the Silver Comet Trail. I get there, put my bike together, air up the tires, say hi to Poo (aka "Molly," the Golden Retriever), and off we go. We decide to go the hilly way to get there. DOWN the driveway we go, whip up the first little hill and DOWN the hill we go to build momentum to the hill from Hell. Bobbie, picture the Powder Springs hills, but longer...and taller. Thought I was going to die, but was determined NOT to walk it. We get to the crest and down we go again, turn right, ride on a real road, and zip down to the trail (a path that I almost busted my ass going down due to the sharp turns).

We hit the part of the trail between Mavell and Concord Road, and off we go. We bike an additional mile and turn around to come back. BGW informs me, "the hill that we walk our bikes up in the trees sucks!" We get there, and it resembles the "extremely strenuous trail" on Kennesaw Mountain. Fock.

We push our bikes up it, get to the top, and still have to bike back to the house. There is one little hill, and my body is already screaming similar to the Tide stain commercials. We make it, go halfway up the driveway, and I say, "I'm done." We walk our bikes up. Me, not having eaten all day, decides to go sit down on the patio as I am LIGHT-HEADED. I drink water, Poo says hi, and BGW comes out from the house she had gone into and sits down. "Yup...I puked."

Needless to say, we're going to have to bike A LOT more often. I was up to biking 40 miles a day - 20 out/20 in. It's amazing what happens in 3 weeks (and entirely too many beers).