Surprise, Surprise, Surprise!

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It’s easy to end up in a rut even if you try hard not to. Despite my best attempts, I had gotten a bit lazy lately ignoring my anti-TV and pro-cycling stances. I had tripped but not fallen down and had to immediately exchange the imaginary stilettos heels I was wearing for some sensible shoes; however, they would not be Earth shoes but perhaps something with a kitten heel!

At 9am, Bill texted me about a ride. I had to tear myself away from the “The Princess Diaries,” which I’ve seen as many times as I’ve seen some Law & Order episodes, and I eagerly texted him that a ride at 10am would be fine by me. After sitting there for 5 minutes, I said to myself, “Great Cat Goddess, why am I sitting here?”

Some days I feel like I should be on an episode of Intervention. They should have a small segment on coaxing the TV remote out of the hand of the unemployed person and then convincing the sofa to release the buttocks of the unemployed person from its pillow-padded clutches. Fortunately, I was able wrestle the remote out from a gnarly pillow-padded index finger and thumb and turn the TV off.

I sat there and said, “I need to get out of this place!” I had never been an early-morning athlete; the only times I had been up early in my life for athletics was when the team or cycling event required it. Otherwise, I had always been a lunch-time athlete.

I got up and I began to assemble my cycling things. By 9:15am, I was dressed and ready to go. I thought instead of sitting around doing nothing much, I should get out there and start doing something, and by 9:30am, I was biking down the rail trail thinking, “Wow. I’ve never been on the rail trail this early.” Surprise, surprise, surprise!

I thought that while waiting for Bill, I’d bike down to Pepperell and back. If I had to bide time, it was better to bide it on my bike than with “The Princess Diaries.” And, I’m sure Georgie would agree with me.

After riding for a bit, I stopped and check my messages. I saw one from Bill; he asked if we could meet at 10:15 instead of 10. I wrote back, “Yep. I’m on the rail trail and almost to Pepperell. Want to meet me out here?”

I got back on my bike and figured since he was going to be 15 minutes later that I could make it to Pepperell now. At this point, it seemed like meeting him on the trail was a better than biking all the way back to the beginning. When I entered Pepperell center, I got off my bike again.

I saw another message from Bill which only said, “Are you full of sh*t?” See, even Bill knew I wasn’t an early morning athlete. Heck, I didn’t even know it was possible for me to ride so early that I might need a water bottle cage toting a Dunkin Donuts coffee cup instead of the usual water that tasted like the plastic bottle. Surprise, surprise, surprise!

Obviously, Bill needed proof of biking. I snapped a picture of the clock in Pepperell center, and I mailed it to Bill and said, “No!!!!!!!!” I then wrote, “I would have blown you off for The Princess Diaries if I didn’t get my butt out of the house.”

He wrote me back and said, “Jean Marie, I can’t believe you!!!” I knew Bill was probably in such great shock that I could now make Cycling Diva demands. I sent another message saying, “I’m hungry. Bring food!”

I turned around to cycle back to meet Bill. Just then, I thought, “Uh-oh.” I only get called Jean Marie when I’m in trouble or when I’m in a hospital; and I’m sure they only use my middle name at the hospital to differentiate me from all those other Jeans!

Bill had called me Jean Marie; however, unlike my Mom, he didn’t say, “Jean Marie, I can’t believe you. Period.” Remember, any punctuation mark that is spoken instead of being written down on paper is bad news.

As I neared Groton, I had an urge. No, it wasn’t to join the circus or raise llamas. I had to go to the bathroom.

I cycled by a “good” place to do such a thing, but I just couldn’t make my bike stop. I always had an issue relieving myself outdoors. Was I afraid of being bitten by a small creature on a vulnerable place or was it the lack of toilet paper? I still haven’t figured it out; however, thankfully, when trying to convince myself to pee in the woods, I remembered that there were stellar bathrooms, complete with toilet paper and minus the small creatures, near the rail trail.

I sent Bill a message to tell him about my biological need, which I think went, “I am going to pee at the Groton library.” I drove off the trail, and as I approached the library, I saw that they had set up the port-a-potties by the ball field across from the library. I thought that rather than tromp through the library in my cycling shoes, I could tough it out and use the port-a-potty.

I climbed into the one nearest the road, though I noticed that they had put it on a patch of land that was definitely not level. In fact, I got in, and I felt like at any moment the whole thing would tip backwards. I imagined the headline in the Groton Herald -- Cyclist Dies Drowns in Raw Sewage in Freak Port-a-Potty Accident!

I tried to get out of there as fast as I could. Upon exiting, I weighed my future options. Drown in raw sewage or suffer a squirrel bite on the bottom? I think the next time, I’m going to stop in that “good” place along the rail trail.

I got on my bike and rode back to the trail. I cycled 50 yards, and then I saw a familiar bike coming toward me; it was Bill. He came bearing bananas and Fig Newtons, ah, a very good man indeed!

As usual, we biked over hill and dale on the roads and returned to the end of the trail to make our way back for the day. As we were biking the last stretch on the trail, I saw two cyclists coming up behind us at a good clip. I told Bill and he dropped behind me, so we could let them pass.

It’s funny how when you know someone long enough, you can speak to each other with only facial expressions. After they passed up, I slowed down and Bill pulled up next to me. I looked at him, and he smiled. I had to laugh, because I knew exactly what he was thinking. I said, “I don’t think they passed us with attitude.”

One day last year, Bill and I were out biking when two cyclists zoomed passed us. Bill then explained to me that Bob, our 75-year-old cycling friend, said that it wasn’t okay when other cyclists passed you with “attitude.” If you were passed with “attitude,” it was your duty to catch the cyclists and take their attitude down a notch or two.

On that day, I said to Bill, “That was attitude. Let’s go!” We cycled fast and furious and caught up to them. (As Bill said later, “I bet they were wondering how a girl and an older guy were able to catch them!”) We were staying with them quite easily until Bill dropped his water bottle; when Bill stopped, I stopped, because I, like Bill, never leave a man behind!

The two cyclists didn’t pass us with attitude today; however, suddenly, after they passed us, it became clear to that we would pretend they did anyway. With no words spoken between us, Bill and I both put the pedal to the metal. Within a few minutes, we were right on their tail. When one of the cyclists heard my voice, I saw him startle, because he never expected the girl and the older guy to be cycling with him. Surprise, surprise, surprise!

We came to a road crossing and a car approached. The car stopped, so we all proceeded. When we got halfway in the road, the driver stepped on his gas. One of the cyclist yelled out, “Hey, what kind of mixed signals are you giving?” The driver shot back, “You have the stop sign.” We all made it across the road in one piece.

As we continued down the trail, one cyclist waved me forward. Bill rode up next to me. And, we continued at our previously established attitude pace, smoking the boys behind us.

Though we didn’t have to say anything, I knew we were both thinking we were Batman and Batgirl, except in cycling gear. The cyclists behind us saw Bill and I cranking down trail, and we didn’t even have to draft each other to maintain our speed. It made me think that appearances, like that of a girl and an older guy, can be deceiving. Surprise, surprise, surprise!

Then, like a déjà vu, I heard Bill grumble and slow down. I looked back, and he was pulling over to the side of the rail trail. I stopped, and I knew it was a flat and not his water bottle as in the Pursuit event of 2009. Just then, the two cyclists came into view.

They slowed a bit and asked Bill if he had what he needed to change his tire; Bill said he was fine and thanked them. I never said they weren’t nice guys; we just had to pretend to teach them a lesson. As they passed me, I shouted to Bill, “Aw Bill, we were kicking some ass!”

Bill immediately told me that I could head up the trail without him. I wanted to be home by 1pm, but I had embraced Bill’s code. I said, “No. I’ll wait for you,” and then I thought, “We leave no man behind.” No surprise, no surprise, no surprise!

Some of the best surprises of my life were finding out I was pregnant with Nate (after infertility treatments), finding out I was pregnant with Iz (because I was 40!), getting a job I knew I wasn’t the most qualified for (my last job and the best job of my life, mostly due to the people I worked with), and winning an award for a story I wrote. I like surprises; of course, good surprises are best and they don’t have to occur only on your birthday or on Groundhog’s Day.

Believe it or not, my first boyfriend always surprised me with presents, flowers, or a nice dinner on Groundhog’s Day; it was always a nice surprise on a day when I least expected it. It’s nice to have life surprise you; of course, there are the bad surprises, too. Today, I thought it’s best when you surprise yourself and say “No!” to the 27th viewing of “The Princess Diaries” and say “Yes!” to wearing kitten heels instead of stilettos so you don’t trip so much when you are being a morning athlete. Towanda, towanda, towanda! ♥