Early this week, my friend Kim threw down yet another challenge. We are supposed to be walking both to drop our kids off at school, and again to pick them up in the afternoon. It's a mile each way, making it a four mile day if we do both drop-offs and pick-ups.
Yesterday, we did four miles. Well, actually Kim did four miles. I did four plus, because I have a three- year-old who thinks that dashing away from me toward the street is the height of hilarity. So I get regular sprints with added stress built into my daily walks. Fun, I tell you!
Our daughters have this thing about horses. As I was struggling to shove the stroller through our front gate, I heard a shrill "Neeeeeigh!" coming from across the street. My daughter threw back her head and gave her best whinny back. Our neighbors love these tribal greetings at quarter to eight in the morning.
Tra la la!
Anyway, so we got the kids to school, and turned around for home. Once we got home, I ran inside and changed into my riding tights and boots and grabbed my helmet for my horseback riding lesson. Tossing the three-year-old into her car seat, I raced off to my parents house to drop her off so I can have my lesson.
At the barn, I couldn't find the saddle I used last lesson, so I grabbed another one. Once I mounted, the poor horse was not having any of this. He was all "Look, lady. It's bad enough that I've got to carry your 179 pounds on my back, but this saddle pinches (or something) and you better get off before I MAKE YOU GET OFF." Yay for quick dismounts! I was two seconds away from playing rodeo, and let me tell you, that was not part of the plan today.
Once we fixed the saddle situation, we got down to business, and I bruised my butt all up with the stand up sit down trot trot trot business. I'm happy to report that I didn't feel like such a dork this time. However, I assure you that I still looked plenty dorky, bouncing around the arena with a fist full of mane and a big loony grin on my face. I felt like doing that whinny that the girls do to greet each other.
After picking my daughter up, I raced home in time to catch Kim on the walk back to school, thereby forfeiting any chance for lunch. At the park between pickup times, we let the kids play on the sand. Feeling cocky, I walked over to the monkey bars and grabbed ahold of the first rung. Once, twice, three times, I moved my hands to the next rung, and then I dropped down, yelling "ow, ow, ow."
Kim walked over and looked me up and down and snorted before spitting in her hands and grabbing the first rung. She almost made it all the way across and really stuck the landing. Okay, she didn't actually spit in her hands, but she did give me the stink-eye.
Well, I couldn't just let that stand. I mean, come on. So I went and grabbed the bar, and made it one space before dropping and complaining some more. Then Kim called her daughter over and made her watch while she did almost the whole monkey bars again. Show-off! I bet she can't lift her arms tomorrow. Before I knew it, Kim had goaded another of the moms into giving it a try. She failed after four swings. You know what this means? Kim is hiding some superhuman strength in her arms. And also, GAME ON, TOOTS.
To console myself, I wandered over to the tire swing and sat down, promptly wedging my butt in the hole and getting whapped in the head with the chain. I turned the tire swing over to the kids, and wandered over to lick my wounds on the regular swings, where I sat my daughter on my lap and discovered that trying to swing while holding a three-year-old works your thigh muscles.
Are you guys working it? I want to hear what you guys are up to!