two-wheeled adventures

Decided to ride from our home to South Bank for Regional Flavours. To be honest, the prospect of food was the only thing that got me through the stupid hills.

My husband is the cyclist in the family. Almost everyday he takes his trusty bike to work (a mere 3 miles away from our home) and he gets a good workout from it. Sometimes, because he’s a glutton for punishment, he takes (literally) the long scenic route which sees him go through the City (he works in the suburbs) and adds an extra nine miles to his trip. He loves it and gives him time to unwind from a busy day at work. He is a willing participant to the whole endeavor.

Me, not so much. I could count with my fingers and toes the amount of time I took the above bike out after purchasing it (back in the Columbia, circa 2011). I always struggled to bike for a long period of time due to sheer exhaustion. In hindsight, knowing what I know now, I attribute my lack of fitness and stamina to my thyroid issues.

But after being on thyroid medicine for the past three months, I braved the idea of taking seven mile ride from our house to South Bank so that we could attend Regional Flavours over the weekend. I am pleased to report that I made it to and from South Bank in one piece. Sure I nearly overdid it on the first leg as we climbed up the Go Between Bridge. I was still getting used to my gear changes and I pushed myself so hard so not to show other cyclists how badly I couldn’t make it up the hilly parts. Big mistake. So after a short pitstop after crossing the bridge, we soldiered on (mad props to my husband for his patience at my rather slower pace) and I knew that it was such a huge personal achievement to even make it to South Bank. But I quickly told Zach that we were going to be taking the ferry back to Milton – no ifs or buts about it.

A couple of hours and a mouthful of feta balls later, it was time to venture home. I’m not entirely sure what came over me, but somehow my husband managed to convince me that I could cycle back home. So I hopped back on and this time took it nice and easy. I went on my own pace, didn’t care about cyclists behind me and slowly mastered the fine art of changing gears at the precise time (especially going up the hills). Halfway through crossing the Go Between Bridge I was feeling (again) so accomplished and as we zoomed by walkers along the Coronation Drive part of the Bicentennial Bikeaway, I was feeling like a boss. I knew I was on the homestretch and was about to conquer something I never imagined I could. I had my moment of glory.

But more than 24 hours later, my butt still hurts from the roundtrip. I guess that’s the price one pays to feel the freedom and exhilaration of the wind in you face, cycling around Brisbane. It was worth it. So much so, we may keep doing it whenever we want to go to South Bank without the car!

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