Some people have enviable powers of persuasion. A girlfriend had asked me along on her weekly ride with a group of mums. I was all full of a head-cold and having already sat through an hour of basketball by 8am I knocked on her door to give my apologies for the ride. This however was not acceptable.
I still don't quite know how she managed it, but luckily I had put on my cranky pants and runners as I ended up on her bike with her helmet and riding before I knew it. Really - even though the seat was too low, the brakes didn't work and I had no idea where we were going - I was riding.
Apart from being inappropriately prepared and thoroughly exhausted, I rode with them into the city and thoroughly enjoyed the coffee. The ride home was good until the home stretch. We had to detour as we rode through (literally) a cross country race, which meant the last k was a long, straight, slow incline. My legs were burning, my heart pumping. Sweat running down my back under my pleather jacket. (told you I was inappropriately dressed) I was so thrilled to find my car outside of her house and that my legs worked enough to drive home and collapse on the couch.