Do You Know the Way to San Jose?

My stationary exercise bike finally went to that big gym in the sky. It had been wheezing and limping its way through the last few months. The last time it sputtered to a stop my husband threatened that he was fixing it "for the last time".

Even before the pedals stop spinning their last spin, my husband gleefully dashes out to buy a new one. I left him to it with only two basic directives: I don't want anything really expensive and I don't want anything really fancy. Men, however, see buying new equipment of any kind as a sport. This explains why, when he returned home with the new bike, it had a water bottle holder, a pulse monitor, and a jack to plug your iPod into. Even better, now hubby gets to be a manly man and put together his lady's new exercise bike while said lady sits nearby, batting her eyelashes and swooning over his big, manly strength.

Okay, now it's assembled. Boy it's pretty. Much nicer than the cheap piece of crap we had before. Hubby urges me to get on so we can see if the seat is the correct height. It isn't. We adjust. Still not right. Adjust again. Nope, liked it better on the last setting. Adjust one final time. Okay. I'm in business now. I'm pedaling on my fancy, new exercise bike. I'm......slogging through quick sand. What the hell? Geez, what setting is the tension on? 10? Nope, 2. Okay, let's just pop that down to 1. Okay. Better. For a minute. Until I start looking for a negative 1 for the tension setting. Surely the beginning setting isn't THIS hard.

Meanwhile, hubby is standing next to me, a happy smile on his face, waiting for my reaction. "It's good! Much better than the old one!" No way am I telling him that my legs are ON FIRE. After only three minutes. I feel like I'm riding uphill. In a snowstorm. With a gorilla on the handlebars. I'm not going to look like a wuss. I can do this. "Woo, this is a much better work out than the last one gave me." Hubby says, "Yes, and if you press this button you can start the 8 week weight loss plan it has programmed into it." (What am I? A sadist? I think I'll skip that.) After minute 6 I tentatively say, "Wow, my legs already feel like spaghetti." Hubby smiles, "Would you rather ride 40 minutes barely breaking a sweat, or 20 and get a good workout?" Okay, I'm no dummy. Cutting a workout in half and still getting good results? I'm in.

Twenty one minutes later and I'm crying uncle. I feel like I've ridden to San Jose and back again. My legs are rubber bands and I'm not sure I want to try standing on them. I don't know that they'll hold me up. According to my handy little electronic gauge I biked 5 miles. Awesome! Way to go me! And let's see, I burned....93 calories? What?!? Okay, I'm taking it back, it must be broken.