Twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two… I closed my eyes into the sensations of my abdomen ripping apart under the strain of a few bicycle situps. Suddenly, I felt some small hands on my midsection. I opened my eyes to a gap-toothed grin from my 8-month-old who had broken through his playpen and crawled over to me. …
I’ve spent years failing badly at bikes so you don’t have to. I have a mortgage, two kids, a wife, a dog that doesn’t listen, a weakness for Miller Lite, and fish frys – but I can still turn a pedal if I have to. Chances are we’ll get along just fine.
C’mon now – let’s get fast together!
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