January 17, Going Out Biking: HealthyPlace.com Dieting, Weight Loss Community

January 17, 2000 --- 5:45 PM EST

I got back from biking -- only a short ride because it started to rain on us. Boo! We did do this big long sprint through a long field of grass. Man! That one pooped me out. I'd like to make it a part of our regular route on the base. Doesn't hurt that the end of it lies this yellow and burgundy tilted merry-go-round with slight rust marks on the seams. When Paul spins me I really like how it feels all crazy. That's my reward for making it across the field. To get to lay down on the merry-go-round and have Paul spin me as fast as possible while I stare at the sky and watch the clouds whirl in cotton candy circles.

My other reward for not pooping out on the way home was biking up the loading dock to this abandoned warehouse-type building and zzzzoooooooming down the ramp on the other side through the overgrown grass. Paul saw me do that and he doubled back to do it too. Hah, the wannabe!

I love biking out back there -- through old, former base property that hasn't yet been torn down. The front part, where my house is, has been totally redone. Any military-familiar person knows that the biggest and bestest house was the base's commanding officer's house (now the Home Owner's Association building). The neighboring houses went to the officers and the deeper you go, the lower in rank and the smaller everything gets till you get to the apartments that were for the enlisted men. We like to bike out past the apartments because it's deserted. (And yeah, my house was a former officer's house. We lucked into it.)

Out towards the back, are all these old buildings and roads that never have any cars so I don't have to freak out I'll get mowed down by some whacked driver who didn't see me. The storage warehouses, the family welcome center, the bowling alley, the exchange, department of motor vehicles, all the usual military base landmarks. I get a kick out of the signs for the fit trail -- they are numbered stations all over that you have to run to and then do what the sign says. One is push ups. One is balance. One is body raises. All these things they had to do for the annual physical exam.

When I lived in Panama and drove through any base, we'd see small armies of men and women jogging around the base doing PT stuff like that. So I guess it's appropriate that years alter I am living on a converted base. And I get a big kick out of the fitness trail signs!

I secretly hope some of these facilities will be overtaken by their civilian counterparts. It'd kick butt to have a bowling alley open in the old bowling alley, or have the swimming pool be overtaken by an annex of the YMCA. Or have some of these restaurants and little stores be restaurants and little stores! Yeah! But, please, get me a gas station somewhere handy soon. Maybe once the large exchange closes for real (it's dwindling) a big fat Super Target will come along and plunk itself there in that building. I'd be in heaven!

Back to biking on the old streets that nobody ever goes on.

The apartment area is nautically themed as far as street names. There is one road called Davey Jones St. I'd love to live on Davey Jones! But then I also think of the Monkees. I do want to go out there with a basket and steal some of the plants before they smosh it all down flat. There is some great hibiscus running rampant, and somebody had heather and somebody else had ferns. I don't think anyone would care if I clipped a few cuttings to take back to my own yard.

The buildings creep me out sometimes though.

I secretly worry that there might be monsters hiding to get me in one of these gunky old buildings with the vacant broken window stares, but we never go in them, just bike on past them. Paul is with me so I figure I can throw him at any monsters that show up and then bike away as fast as I can in 21st gear.

Monster bait. That's what husbands are for -- so the wives can make a getaway!

~Astrophe