in the past week i have ridden my mountain bike at brown county state park, not too far from bloomington "oh-it's-so-cute-indiana", waverly park "it's-not-just-about-the-old-TB-sanatorium", and muscatatuck wildlife refuge, not "muscataf*&k" as-renamed-by-melinderrr-on-the-very-first-singletrack-climb-by-the-precipice-from-hell. the woods echoed with four letter words.
our trail narrative was eventually reduced to single vowels (i clearly missed my calling as a speech therapist). i am wholly confident that it was this, and not my stellar handlebar/eye co-ordination, that provided safe passage across the dusty, narrow singletrack (that dropped straight off into the abyss), something that each location's topography had in common. we escaped relatively unscathed, as evidenced by the lack of wrapping selves/bikes around trees/poison ivy/creek beds. however, i was molested by a rogue thorn bush at waverly, and we hurriedly pedalled past "the rape shack" (as christened by melinderrr) at muscatatuck.
post ride custom involved the reclaimation of our ovaries, from the dirt, by indulging in chocolate chip bourbon cookies, and the outlet malls of middle indiana. we may not be terribly efficient at shifting gears/ascending hills/negotiating tree roots/breathing continuously, but we are bloody well going to look cute out there.