Friday, January 7, 2011

Silliness Regarding Frosting, Running, and Biking

Last night was the second time I had a mid-run frosting incident. (What? Who am I? Oh wait…myself.) I was running back from Arlington, and happened to have my phone on me. It rang, so I answered, and it was my friend Rachel. Rachel is making a birthday cake for her boyfriend and called to ask me if a hand mixer would be ok even if the recipe called for a stand mixer (answer: yes!). We briefly discussed frosting-making, and then hung up (Me: Rachel, I’m actually mid-run right now…).

It was relatively unremarkable, except that, like I said, that was my second frosting incident. The first was a few months ago. I was on a running date situation (GAH. I know. Laugh accordingly.) and we were running along the Towpath. We passed 6x6 (doing her own run), and said hi. 

Then she stopped and yelled, Oh wait, Mollie, do you still have all that frosting in your fridge right now?
Me: Ummm, actually no! Sorry!

Any hope I had of projecting normalcy was immediately dashed. I then proceeded to explain to my unsuspecting running date the problem of making too much frosting, then having leftovers, then making something to use the leftovers, then having too much extra again, etc. etc. etc. TMI? Probably.

Not surprisingly there was no second date.

And while we’re on the subject of ridiculous things, let me tell you a story about a bike ride. I was at home in Petaluma one afternoon, so I decided that biking would be a good idea (boredom is the only thing that inspires me to partake in this activity).

So I pulled on my mama’s awkwardly padded bike shorts (I thought I outgrew diapers 21 years ago…but apparently not), strapped on her way-too-small-for-me biking shoes, and unearthed her bike in the garage. (Why is it that every time I bike I'm woefully unprepared?)

My mama has a really nice road bike - the kind with the shoes that click onto the pedals. (Which, ironically, are called Clipless Pedals. Can someone please explain this to me? Am I missing something?) I’ve ridden it once before (last year), and it wasn’t hard to click in and out, so I assumed I’d be fine and just started riding, hoping for the best.

About 4 blocks from my house I approached a red stoplight. I slowed, thinking turn green turn green turn green! But it wasn’t turning green, so once my bike was at a complete stop, I tried to click out of my pedals. But they were stuck! In what felt like slow motion (nooooooooo!) I tipped over and hit the pavement. Like a tree falling in the woods, I just slowly toppled to the side whaaa-bam.

Luckily I bounce, and was up in half a second. Unluckily two nice Petaluma ranchers in pickups pulled over to see if I needed assistance. Me (blushing): Oh no, I’m fine! Thanks! I just, you know, got stuck in my pedals!