In retrospect, it was fun, and that is decidedly the definition of Type 2 fun.
Are you familiar with the three types of fun? I'm not sure who came up with these designations, but someone determined that:
- Type 1 activities are fun while you're doing them. Think riding go-cart riding, skating across a smooth lake - all those things that make you say, "Whee!"
- Type 2 activities maybe aren't so much fun while you're doing them, but when you're telling (or writing) about them afterwards, you definitely can say you had fun. Think 110-mile days on a bike, 6-hour hikes through the snow and brush.... Okay, maybe those are just my idea of fun, but you get the gist of what I'm trying to say, right?
- Type 3 - I'm not sure why these are even included in the fun scale, because these are the activities that weren't really fun while you did them and still weren't once you were safely back at home with a beer. Literally freezing your toes off while mountain climbing comes to mind here. Really, really not fun.
So, what's the point of my rambling? Today I engaged in what I'd hoped would be Type 1 fun, but ended up being Type 2: I took Pali, my mountain bike, for a ride on the trails behind my house.
Yesterday, Scout and I walked about five miles out and about, and determined that the trails were all packed like cement thanks to warm days, cold nights, and howling winds. I wanted to go farther, but decided that I'd walked far enough. It seemed like a grand idea to expand my horizons by bike riding instead.
Hah!
Today I went on the slowest, hardest bike ride I have ever been on. And I made it a whopping four miles. In an hour. Seriously.
While I ride Madeleine, my road bike, a lot, Pali and I haven't had many adventures together. As a result, I'm not a very confident off-road rider and the skills required aren't second nature. To top it off, this was my first foray onto snow, a very different riding surface than gravel, even when hard packed.
I pulled Pali off the hook where she'd been hanging for the past two years, pumped up her tires to 20 psi (less than the 40 they're rated for, but more than is often recommended for snow riding), and set off on the trail through our yard. And went nowhere. I couldn't get the front suspension to lock out, the snowmachine track was a bit soft and lumpy, and I had a hard time getting started. Since I knew the trail went through a few tree wells I wasn't keen to ride through, I decided I'd just push Pali back to the main trail where I expected easier going.
It took a couple of tries, but I did finally get moving. I ended up feeling like I do when I skate ski - I push hard as long as I can until I have to stop, gasp for breath, and pull all of my parts back into alignment so I can get going again. It took much more effort than I expected to get through the snow (I'd waited until it warmed up to 40 or so which meant that the top layer had gotten mushy), and the rough, overlapping snowmachine tracks jerked my front tire around a lot. It was the best full-body workout I've had in a long time.
It only took a couple of miles before my knees and quads cried, "Enough!" and I decided to head home. Of course, after I turned around I was going ever-so-slightly downhill and had a light wind at my back. No stopping for realignment was necessary, and I even managed to pick up a modicum of speed. By the time I was nearly home, I wished I could keep going. Common sense prevailed, and I chose to end the adventure on a high note.
As with most new activities, I anticipate that my next attempt will be easier - if only because I know what to expect - and more successful. I'll also go out before it warms up so much so that the surface snow is still frozen. Before long, Type 2 will become Type 1.
Whee!
