I have brave friends. Really I do. How brave you ask? You be the judge.
Over the last few months I started biking with these friends. It was a blast. I got a work out as we labored up hills, I got a rush from the wind against my face as we barreled back down them. We even got honked at and cheered for as we biked down the the road with longboards strapped to our backs. I was a cool mom for awhile.
Then the cold came. It moved in and settled like a toothache, mean and throbbing. And it's here for the winter.
I promptly turned on my fire, grabbed a blanket, and went into hibernation. But not my friends. They'd text me early in the morning, all hope and excitement. It went something like this:
Their text: Going riding. Want 2 come?
Mine: Ummm. It's 25 degrees. I'm afraid.
Theirs: It will be fine.
Mine: Too scared. Need fireplace.
And another day:
Theirs: You coming riding?
Me: Don't hate me, but no.
See? They. Are. Brave. And me? It's official. I'm a hermit. A cold-fearing, whimpering hermit.
And then today I got this text: Going for some type of exercise this morning. If we go for a walk instead of a ride, will you come?
Maybe next time.
Where's my blanket?