BerthaBlog

Last night at the YMCA I decided to try a cycling class. I used to like bike riding, back when I was in shape. I figured I’d follow the class for as long as I could, and then just sit and pedal steadily for the remainder of the class.

I lasted about ten minutes with their “sprints-and-uphills” program. Damn, I’m a wuss. What really did me in was the part where we cranked up the resistance and stood up to pedal. After that I was just trying to make it to the end of the class.

The worst thing was the bicycle seat. It was tiny. You’d think well-padded ass like mine would have no trouble sitting on anything, but that little bike seat was torture. I must be doing something wrong; nobody else seemed to mind ’em.

So today my legs are falling off and my butt hurts. I may actually have bruising on my posterior. I don’t think cycling class is for me.

Last week my spousal unit, the Alpha Geek, noticed some of my Income Tax printouts on the table. “What’s this?”

“Printouts from my income tax class.”

“Are they tests, or something?”

“No, just homework assignments.”

“Why are they all covered in red writing?”

“That’s where I went back and corrected them after she posted the answers.”

He boggled at me. “Nobody actually does that. You just check what grade you got and move on to the next homework assignment.”

“But then I won’t learn what I did wrong!”

Yeah, I hate ’em, but I still want to do it right, dammit.