Backs and backsides

Although I complained to Zdenek yesterday that my butt hurt after our first cycle of the season (and to which, to my annoyance, he replied that he felt fine), I didn't really think twice about heading out again this morning. I have an out-of-town trip planned for Friday, so I need to squeeze in as many cycling days as possible between now and Thursday. All seemed to be going okay this morning until we actually got on our bikes, at which point our tushes felt like tender, bruised patches of flesh being punched over and over again by hard, unforgiving saddles. (Turns out that Zdenek's butt actually was sore!) I was certain that I would have to do the whole ride standing up, but, fortunately, it numbed completely by the time we reached the Park.

Three workouts in 24 hours has taken a bit of a toll on my body, and with Zdenek pushing the pace today, it was a pretty rough 40 minutes for me. Towards the end of our second loop, I complained to him that we seem only to ever have one pace, and that we don't know the pleasure of riding leisurely. He reminded me of one weekend ride last summer when we were about 20 miles away from home, heading through the Palisades in New Jersey, when my nagging knee injury (caused by my then ill-fitted bike) finally forced me stop pedaling. My valiant husband, eager to help me but even more desperate to get home, cycled beside me, hand on my back, pushing me uphill for several miles until I could pedal again. I'm not sure that's how I would define a "leisurely" ride, but it is comforting to know that my husband always has my back.

I'm meant to be flying to Canada this weekend to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of my good friend, Heather. I am blessed with a very tight group of girlfriends -- the five of us have been together since high school, but several of us have friendships extending back even further than that. We're throwing a stagette for the bride-to-be at Jessica's cabin in BC this coming weekend. The girls and I haven't spent quality time together since goodness-knows-when; the last time we were all in the same place for a night was in 1999, a few weeks before I moved to England. This would be a 10 year reunion of sorts, and I'd be loathe to miss it. (As you can see from the photo, whenever we get together, there's always some unexpected fun.) The girls have done a lot of planning and work for this weekend; all I have to do is fly in. I count myself blessed to have such organized, generous, and supportive friends.

Unfortunately, this week at work is shaping up to be no less hectic than the last. I'm desperately hoping that I will, in fact, still be able to make the trip come Friday, and that I'm not forced to cancel last-minute because of the deadlines with which I'm dealing. I am lucky, however, to work with a talented and motivated group of individuals, several of whom are now scrambling to enable me with some sort of remote international broadband access for this weekend so that I may have my cake and eat it, too.

I'm not sure how this week will shape up when all is said and done, but it seems that every time I stop to consider it, there are people all around me -- family, friends, coworkers -- who have my back. My butt, however, must fend for itself.