Supermodel and I exercised today. [Note: Here in Utah, or maybe it's just my neighborhood, regardless of whether you run, bike, swim, lift weights, or walk, women generally refer to it as exercise. "Did you just exercise?" "What'd you do for exercise?" Feel free to explain any Utah people. Or not. Simply an observation.]
This morning we lifted weights. We rode our mountain bikes yesterday, although we stayed on roads for much of the ride. We pepper in runs too.
The best part of exercise time with my friends is our conversation. "What goes on the run, stays on the run" is our rule. I REALLY wish I could blog about it. But I can't. I can share that topics range from the mundane to the very saucy. I can also share the basic beginnings of my love of exercise...
The Birth of Running
I started running with my Dad when I was around 12 years old. He and his running partners didn't talk about anything that interesting. They were late 30's, early 40's, all men trying to squeeze in runs before work with a long run on the weekend. Maybe they tempered their conversation because I was there. But the men really didn't talk about anything that juicy. They farted a lot, blamed it on me and laughed. "Chri-see! That's disgusting! Say, excuse me.'" I liked the attention so I laughed too.
The Birth of Cycling
When I married Chris, he was a cyclist. I eventually started mountain biking, loved it, then convinced Dad to give it a try. Dad had been a triathlete so he'd ridden road bikes prior, but at the time he was more of an ultra-endurance runner. He wasn't cycling.
C'mon Dad! It'll be fun!
I was excited when Dad got his mountain bike. He wasn't riding it much, so for Father's Day that year, I thought our father/daughter activity could be a nice ride in the desert. It was the middle of June in Phoenix, Arizona. We went to McDowell Mountain Park and chose a trail that Chris and I frequently rode. It was a 15 mile loop that wasn't too technical and had just the right amount of ups and downs.
We didn't beat the heat. Chris and I were used to riding in high temps (stupid really), plus we were a little younger. It was well over 100 degrees. The sun was intense, there was no breeze, and no shade. We almost killed Dad.
What goes on the ride...stays on the ride (maybe).
We'd been riding for an hour with another one to go. I was behind Dad. Without saying anything, he pulled his bike off the trail, threw it in the dirt, and LAID down under a dead mesquite tree that provided about 6 inches of shade.
With his eyes closed, sweat oozing from his body, his head almost visibly throbbing from the heat, he said, "The next time you want to do a father/daughter activity... just take me to lunch."