Don't mind the smell, it's just my thighs burning...

I have a gym membership. At least, I'll have a gym membership until the middle of next month. I requested a cancellation, but you have to give 30 days written notice in order to cancel. I guess their thinking is that you'll reconsider during the 30 days and change your mind, figuring that if you have a gym membership, even if you don't go, you'll feel better about your health and well-being.

So, I bought a road bike recently, a Trek 1000, a step down from the Nimbus 2000, but a good bike nonetheless. I'm amazed at how much faster it rides than my old mountain bike. And I find it much easier to exercise with the wind blowing in my face as I dodge cars, pedestrians—and death—minute after minute.

So I've been going on small rides here and there: 6 miles, 7 miles, etc. Feeling good. Having fun. Even did 23 miles one morning.

Then my buddy Jason, who's a big road biker (referring to his enthusiasm, not bulk, although he has nice calves), he invites me to ride one morning, and proceeds to torture me for over 2 hours as we head up to Armonk, through Greenwich, and back down to Mamaroneck. 32 miles of thigh burning country roads. It was a good hurt, though.

We got to ride down some killer downhill sections, even hitting 40 m.p.h. a couple of times. Then, an 18-degree uphill that just about did me in. As I pulled into my garage, I was feeling really good about myself. Until I hopped off the bike and tried to walk upstairs with extreme Jello-legs.

Can't wait to go again.