"I don't know if I can make it the whole 50k" I said to Kiff, at around 22K. "My heart is going so fast, I am sweating, I might just be too out of shape to do the whole ride!"
It was then I realized I was just experiencing *exercise* and its attendant sensations.
Well, we did it. Kiff (Gabriel in his bikeseat) and I biked 50 whole kilometers to York Mills and back again. Riding the Don Valley Parkway with thousands of other cyclists on perfectly paved road, surrounded by lush trees and glimpses of urban skyline - it was so surreal.
Kiff dubbed the early-morning, bike-studded landscape "future city".
My thighs hurt, my back is stiff and it was the most exercise I have done in 2 years, but I feel like a suck complaining - I didn't have a 21-lb baby literally kicking my butt and singing his "bo-bo-ba-ba" song all the way from Eglington to York Mills.
Less than half way up, I saw a red-faced teenager biking with his dad. He looked pained and mortified as we climbed the long, shallow hill around Eglington.
"This hill is the worst," said an older well-intentioned European man, as he passed the teenager. "After this, it gets much easier. Then there is just one more hill, but it is short and steep."
He waved and passed, and I sped up a bit, too. Then - Crash! I looked behind me and the boy had fallen off his bike, in what I suspect was act of dramatic self-sabotage. I figured he was thinking "There are two way out of this hell - finishing it or injury, and I am not about to finish this ride. And boy, will dad feel bad for dragging me out to this."
