Let’s establish from the outset my attitude to exercise—I don’t like it. Sure, there are those who get a thrill from it, a rush of endorphins to make them feel good for the rest of the day, but my drive for exercising is that if I don’t, I will die, or get fat—whichever comes first.
It can also be said that a cardiovascular workout is not without danger.
My bicycle had been neglected sitting as it did on the patio. Tires were deflated from lack of interest. Last maintenance on the old two-wheeler was, let me see, oh, yeah, never. In a moment of uncharacteristic exuberance, I upended the bike for overdue TLC. After tediously cleaning road grime from the gears and repacking bearings with grease, I put the bicycle back on the patio for day one of new found health.
Years ago, the suburb in which I live was once a mining quarry. Cavernous pits were left after excavating sand for construction work. The pits filled with water and are now lakes around which the suburb is built. Pathways skirt the lakes, some twenty-three kilometers all up. Cycling along the pathways is a great way to do things not liked, such as physical activity. For one, there is not the ever-present threat from cars. Cars and cycling are fraught with perils. Pedaling along a path beside a lake. What harm could there be in that?
Riding a bicycle is easier than jogging. Constant pounding on the pavement is high impact. It gives me a headache, not to mention swollen ankles. Pushing pedals build leg muscles and is easy when compared to other sports. Easy that is until finding that unexpected hill. Cycling allows you to discover hills you never noticed in the car. By far, the best thing about cycling for strength and stamina is the choice. You can choose easy or intense. Today I decided on the first option.
Not long into my ride, a snake slithered across my path—physical description: long and brownish, classification Pseudonaja ( not that the scientific classification was uppermost in my mind at the time. I Googled it when safely back inside my house). Snakes are common in the area. Almost everyone in Australia has encountered a snake at some time. A small number get bitten, mostly on hands and legs. The little knowledge I have of the reptile is their ability to sense vibrations. A human stomping along a path is felt by the snake long before the trekker spots it. Soft tires along a smooth track are something unexpected. And then there’s that other thing, a minor but not insignificant detail—long and brownish snakes are deadly.
I swerved to dodge the serpent.
The snake, however, was less than impressed—or grateful. As I passed it leaped up and bit the back of my shirt. I glimpsed the creature in my shadow as I sped away fleeing from the thing that now clung to my back like a scene from a horror movie.
Nothing prepared me for leaping snakes at fast moving bicycles—as it seems, not fast enough. Some would suggest fleeing a slithering reptile the best way to get into an aerobic heart zone. Fortunately, the snake dropped off and I avoided an ugly showdown. Me and Rattlesnake Jake—okay, it wasn’t the Mojave Desert but a suburban walking track—it could have been ugly just the same. I continued riding at a grandmotherly pace.
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