A brush with death...

So lets take it back to yesterday morning at approximately 9:00 a.m. I was settled in at the computer, prepared to waste another day simply not doing anything. Mandy walked into the room and I, like an idiot, just sat there on the computer, sublimely ignorant of her intentions. "Let's take a bike ride," was the statement that brought me the first hint reservation. Actually, let me rephrase that, "Joel....JOEL, are you listening to me?" was the phrase that first nailed me, followed by the infamous bike ride comment. Like and idiot I enthusiastically stopped what I was doing, found my tennis shoes which conveniently no longer fit and "saddled up the horses," (put the stupid bikes on the bike rack. Off we were, charging along, myself putting forth the same unbridled enthusiastic spirit I had kept hidden deep inside since the last time I was sent in for a hemorrhoid surgery. The first 6 miles was a breeze, it was cool, shady and slightly downhill (a fact I wouldn't realize until later when I was coming back, slightly uphill). We stopped and had a very relaxing chat by a beautiful waterfall and then when hunger hit we decided it was time to head back. This was the first mistake, as I stated, the trek back was all a slight upgrade. The sun had risen to an overhead position, there was no more shade, no more cool in the air and the only comfort I had was that of my woman's camelback-which every time I took my hand of the handlebar to reach for the tube to put it in my mouth, I almost wrecked. We finally arrived back at the car after what seemed like hours of laboring that stupid bike. Then came the redeeming part of the trip. Japanese for lunch. Mmmmm!