Now you can't say I didn't try -- I got packed up and tried to bike to town. Going down the hill, the wind blowing in my face, I thought, "this is great, why hadn't I done this before?", until I cruised outside of my neighborhood, hitting the large hill that's before the town, and I tell myself, "oh, this won't be so bad in a low gear," so I continue up the hill, realizing, "ouch, my legs hurt", and "boy, I can't breath," straining, gasping, my legs whirling around dozens of times and making only inches, until I give up and get off the bike, my legs nearly buckling entirely out from under me, and finally falling down onto a bus stop in futility. After 10 minutes of blubbering tiredness, I decided that there was no way in Dog's holy bone that I'd make it to town if I couldn't get past that hill. A combination of out-of-shapeness and cold is hot chocolate to a snowman. I turned around and rode down the hill, pedaling back to my house, walking it into my driveway, completely exhausted and on the threshold of literally passing out. I struggled to put the bike away into the closet, my eyes entirely whited out and the images pulsating, and collapsed on my front porch. After a few minutes I stumbled my way into the shower and laid there. Ridiculous, the whole thing, but I suppose it was better I had tried than not tried.

That is all.