I never realized just how “out of shape” I was until I began bicycling to work last week. For those of you who know how close I live to work [I g-mapped it at exactly one mile], you might be wondering why I didn’t start doing this long before last week.
I had an excellent reason to drive to work for many moons there, mind you. I stuck to it, and would only ride to town on days when the streets were crowded with auto shows, antique fairs or sea glass festivals. My reason was compost. I took all of the coffee grounds and veggie scraps home to make soil, a thing which my sister once joked I could still accomplish on a bike if I towed a trailer behind me. (Oh Jennifer, you’re too much!)
Then one day, my husband informed me that all of our four compost piles were at maximum capacity and that I would need to stop bringing all those coffee grounds home already. So I had no excuse for my sister for why I don’t ride my bike to work everyday (other than, perhaps, the occasional inclement weather we get around here).
This shape metaphor has me baffled. “Out of shape” always has a solid roundness to it, whereas “getting in shape” seems more fluid and malleable. What shape would you like to be in? “In shape?” What shape is that?
I don’t know. I’m working on it. I pant less and less dramatically every time I dismount my bike now. So that’s a start!