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This weekend my husband and I were supposed to go on a mountain bike ride with some guys in a bike club nearby. Then I found out that I was to be the only girl on the 11 mile mostly up-hill ride.  I faked cramps and a nose-bleed to get out of it. Turns out, my husband said these guys are biking monsters, and I would have been left in the dust (hence why I didn’t go).

Now that my husband’s bike has been fixed from the crazy weekend ride (front hydro cables tightened, and the rear wheel put back on) we went for a trail ride today.

It’s down the street a bit, around some curves and behind some houses. It’s more like a secret passage way between the West and East sides of the neighborhood.

On the way there, we chased some neighborhood boys (I made fun of them, trying to get them to chase my husband) and called one a girl because he was slow (like me) and his bike was a similar minty green color as mine.

They wussed out, and my husband and I had the trail to ourselves. He gave me enough courage to make it over downed trees without stopping my bike, getting off, going over, getting on, and pedaling away. No, I went flying over, and even landed the mini jumps.

We repeated the trail a few times, and headed back to the house. As I put my things away, I found an old forgotten bag of water balloons. Oh boy, this is going to be a good day…