I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike

I haven't heard anything more from the paper that contacted me last week, but I'll ring the guy today and see what the story is.

This past weekend was full of bike riding. The title of the post, by the way, comes from the Queen song, and I hum it to myself almost the entire time I'm out on the bike. The bike, I hope, will prevent me from evoking that other Queen song, "Fat-Bottomed Girls."

On Saturday we went for about a 15-mile cycle. The bike path along the coast is absolutely beautiful. It overlooks the sea the whole way, and we stopped once to wade in the ocean. At times the path goes high on cliffs over the sea, and sometimes it's right on the beach.

It's not all sand and sea air and the glow of health, though. Coming back Saturday night, I felt like I was going to die. I came upstairs and had to lie down because my legs wouldn't support me, and I was shaking and freezing cold. Les made me some tea, and I felt better in a few minutes. I think it was that it got cold in the evening, and we'd been excercising and sweating and then suddenly got cold.

Undeterred, we decided to go for a cycle twice as long the next day. We cycled 15 miles out to a place called Mordialloc (which really sounds like a villain in a fantasy novel). The Melbourne Food and Wine Festival is on at the moment (there always seems to be something going on here), and on a pier in Mordialloc was one of the events. There were various stalls set up with foods from around the world, bands, a few carnival rides for kids, and generally everyone having a good time. It was worth the 30 miles, round-trip, and a nice thing to do on a Sunday. And I felt pretty good coming back Sunday night.