Lance Armstrong, I must break you!

One of the things that's happened lately is that I was lured into the woods, enticed by promises of excitement, exercise, and adventure, only to be subjected to hours of torturous mountain biking. In all fairness, though, I loved about 75% of the experience, it was just the horrible 25% which was nearly the deal-breaker. Because there's nothing I find more enjoyable than laboriously propelling my 230 pounds up a seemingly endless, boulder-strewn switchback trail on a borrowed, light-weight, aluminum bicycle at an agonizingly plodding pace... sucking wind, while my gazelle-legged lady is gaily and effortlessly sailing up the slope ahead, shouting over her shoulder...

"Isn't this FUN, Tommy?"

It's a good thing I love you, Ally. It really is. But seriously, I did have a good time. But it really was exceptionally exhausting, and I give all you avid mountain bikers many props for voluntarily engaging in such a challenging pastime.

Anyone for Blockbuster and 7-11, instead?