Squishy and soft

Ali and I were walking out of a birthday party and talking about going to Dairy Queen to pick out her birthday cake when another mom asked if we'd taken advantage of the DQ "Buy a blizzard get one for a quarter" sale last week.

I said no, I was trying to stay away from food like that right now. She laughed, said she couldn't resist. She was tall, thin and pretty, yet I didn't hate her on sight. She was just too nice. So we chatted a bit and I mentioned that Alison and Jeff had her same metabolism.

Alison put her arm around me and asked if I minded that she and her dad were tall and thin. "Of course not, silly," I said, and hugged her back.

"Good," she said. "'Cause you know when I lay on Dad when we're watching TV? He's kind of bony. You're squishy. You're soft. Kinda like my own special pillow."

I appreciate the sentiment, yet feel the need to share than I'm approaching 25 lbs of less squishy. The conversation did make me wonder just how un-squishy I really need to be...

In other news, I may have met my endorphins this morning. I'm not exactly sure, having never met them before. But if they weren't the real thing, I think they may have been cousins.

It was about 75 minutes in on what turned out to be a 90 minute bike ride on the Monon Trail. I was coming back down from the 86th Street intersection and had to speed up to get around a walker in time to avoid a coming biker. I was tired, but going to fast to just brake and wait, and I swear I got this sort of mini-high.

So I sped up some more and felt even better. It was weird. I almost liked the sensation of the sweat dripping down my chin. The lactic acid burning a trail from my calves to my upper thighs suddenly took on the feel of those hot rocks the pedicurist uses sometimes. I could breathe. I was totally caught up in the moment, whizzing along with the spring breeze in my face and the blur of greenery all around me.

But then I had a cluster of walkers on both sides, had to brake hard and nearly flipped myself over the handle bars. The endorphins (or whatever they were) fled and I was back to chugging along, feeling the burn and wiping away sweat before it blinded me. Still. It was a happy chug.

When I got home, I spent an hour trying to hack back the jungle in my back yard. I discovered that the neighbor's fence that divides our properties has a little jog in in. It gives the yard a little more character. Or will if I ever clear the piles of overgrown shrubbery debris that now litters the ground. And if viney overgrowth wasn't actually what was holding it up.

I'm guessing that tomorrow will find me immobile from arms to feet. By then I might have some feeling back in my posterior. Of course that feeling will be pain. Do endorphins like post-workout pain? Maybe they'll come back and visit.

The rain left some awesome mud puddles, so after dinner, Jeff suggested a bike ride so Ali could get the most out of her Sunday bath.

I declined to accompany them, but did manage to snag a quick picture of the post-puddle jumpers.