Bike riding at night and Communism...

Good in theory, but in application? Not so great.

Bobby got off work yesterday at 5 pm, which is the earliest he's gotten off work at his new job. He was excited because it meant he could go on a group ride, but sadly, there was no group ride scheduled. So shortly after he left for work, I get a phone call.

"How about we bike to Olathe and back?"

I wanted to argue that it would be dark, but we have bike lights, so I agreed. A good long bike ride would be good for me.

It was 32 miles there, so I anticipated it taking just over an hour and a half to get there. I failed to consider the head wind, the hills, and the fact that there were only two of us. It took just over two hours, so we got to Bobby's mom's around 8. My legs felt a little fried, and I was a little concerned about making the ride back.

Bobby's mom wasn't home, but we raided her fridge anyway. Well, Bobby raided her fridge... he kept telling me to eat, but I wasn't hungry. At all. I managed to force down my Clif bar, and part of a banana, and a few bites of a veggie burger. All I really wanted was liquids, so I felt I got enough from a couple glasses of orange juice.

At about 8:30, we left to make the trip back. Less than a mile into the "back" part of our "out 'n back" I stopped and threw up. I could tell this was going to be a fun ride.

Not long into our second leg, we turned on our lights (our very powerful, very expensive lights) as the sun was falling behind the horizon line. It wasn't quite pitch black yet when my light flickered a couple times. I assumed it was because I hit something in the road that just shook the wiring between the light and the battery. After traveling a few more yards, my light went out. Completely.

Uhh...

Bobby played with the wires a bit, checking to see if it just shook loose, and nothing happened. Being the chivalrous human being he is, my husband gave me his battery pack so I would have light. Ten minutes later, the sun had completely set, and we were under the cover of night with just one light. If that one went out, we'd be done.

Since I had the only light, I rode in front, meaning I wouldn't have the benefit of drafting behind Bobby. My body was feeling a little ragged from the miles already ridden, and we weren't completely confident about how to get home. Given my complete lack of sense of direction, I was feeling extremely unsure about our travel, and with how exhausted I felt, I didn't want to waste any miles in the wrong direction.

Bobby was feeling a little gutsy, and started riding to the side where there wasn't much light. I hit something in the road that caused my handlebars to swivel a little, and the light hit the opposite side of the road. Five feet in front of Bobby was a deer.

"OH CRAP!"

I'm really surprised Bobby didn't go down.

In case you were wondering, back country roads are really terrifying at night. I was really regretting all those times I watched "Children of the Corn" in my youth. My only comfort was in knowing we had prayed before we left, and my energy came from knowing I was the one with the light, and the faster I rode the sooner we'd get home.

Then I saw a freaking snake in the road.

Not just in the road. The light was pointed down to the road right in front of my front wheel, simply because I'm more interested in what I'm about to hit than what's in the road a few yards ahead. What kept me calm was that in the next second, I wasn't going to hit anything that would kill me. So when I saw the snake, it took a second to register that it was a snake, and then to register that it was in my path of travel. So my only response? Swerving and screaming. Loudly.

I wonder what the people in that little country house we were riding by thought?

Bobby's really good at comforting me. "It was only a bull snake. Want to go back and catch it so we can take it home?"

One of the things our friends at the bike shop in Utah always said was "butt hurt." If someone was bothered by something, they were "butt hurt." I thought it was silly. How are they related? I found out last night. I was butt hurt. And very irritable. Fortunately, we saw lights up ahead, and since we'd already passed Eudora, we knew it was Lawrence. FINALLY!

We got to Mass street, and then turned onto 9th. It was the quickest way home with the steepest hills. I totally granny-geared it all the way up, and with the encouraging cat calls by a car full of drunk men, I made it.

Once we rolled up to our apartment, my Garmin said 63.7 miles. Not the longest ride I've ever done, but the longest I've done in a while. Not bad for someone whose only been back on the bike for a couple weeks.

PS: Snakes = the devil.