When you read the inevitable future blog post in which I tell you how stupid I am, and you shake your head and think I’m obviously just fishing for compliments because seriously, no one is that stupid, I want you to come back and re-read this post first. And weep.
So, this morning Terry and I go out cycling. We’re cycling merrily along, up hill and down dale (but mostly up hill, it has to be said), and also, along the side off the motorway, because that’s what it’s like where we live. Yeah.
(Note: a FIELD by the side of the motorway. Not along the ACTUAL side of the motorway, because that would be illegal. And also: stupid.)
Anyway, there we are traversing the side of a particularly bumpy hill when Terry, who is lead file in this expedition, suddenly stops (Reason: unknown). I, travelling immediately behind him, am forced to stop too. As I do so, I place my right foot down on the ground to steady myself.
Except we’re on a hill.
So there is no ground.
And I am stupid.
With an embarrassingly feminine squeal, followed by an equally embarrassingly masculine grunt, I promptly fall sideways off my bike, and roll a little way down the hill. Terry watches and laughs. (Remind me, why am I marrying Terry, again?)
The only harm done is to my ego, so I get up, dust myself down, and get back in the saddle. Off we go. We’ve been cycling on for not more than 30 seconds when Terry stops again. (Reason: still unknown.) I stop behind him, put my foot to the ground – and promptly fall off my bike again. AGAIN.
And this is why stupidity should be painful. (Actually? It kind of was…)
So, we’re back home now, and Terry has laughed at me, ooooh, maybe 30 times? I am stupid. And also: bruised. But! But! It’s all OK, because I bet I totally burned a kazillion calories and now I’m all toned, like an athlete, no?
Um, no. I consulted my nifty little “bike pedometer” thing when we got home. We’ve done 5 kilometres in one hour. Calories burned: 60. Sixty. If that right there doesn’t convince you that exercise is a complete and utter waste of time, I don’t what will. I mean, 60 calories. That’s nothing. I bet the two slices of toast and, OK, jam, that I had when I got back contained more calories than that.
Exercise: gah. Cycling: gah. Stupidity: gahgahgahgahgah. Gah.