Watch out, Lance Armstrong.

Ever heard the phrase, "Oh, it's just like riding a bike!"? It means something's easy, right? Like once you figure it out, you'll never not know how. When people say it, they're usually dismissing your concerns about whether or not you can do a particular activity.

I beg to differ with those folks.

If someone were to come up to me today and tell me that something was "just like riding a bike," I'd feel a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. My face might go pale or my knees weak as I started to equate the upcoming event with something difficult, like, oh I don't know... hunting down and killing Osama bin Laden in the caves of Afghanistan.

Over the past year, I've been trying to find some form of physical activity that I actually enjoy, something that will help me to look forward to the time of exercise that I currently dread everyday. I have never been an athlete; I'm fairly uncoordinated, and I'm as slow as a turtle. I have nightmares about being lapped by the other kids as we ran around the playground in 3rd grade PE. I was always picked last for kickball teams, and I'm the only one of my sisters who has ever broken a bone. I've broken four.

In other words, finding a sport that I enjoy is gonna take some time.

My latest attempt is riding bikes. The last time I rode a bike I was in the 2nd grade and I fell off and broke a wrist and busted my chin. I can still remember sitting in my Brownies meeting with my chin all bandaged up and a cast on my arm. Not a fond memory.

However, I decided that I should give it another try. I mean, it's a bike, right? Little kids do it. Surely I can ride a bike. It'll be just like, uh, riding a bike. (ha!)

Two weeks later, and I'm just in from my third go 'round. My legs are trembly, my breathing is labored, and my heart is beating a million times per minute. Oh! and I have scrapes on my pinky finger and my forearm where I ran into a stone archway thing as I was trying to turn a sharp corner. Better my arm getting beat up than Cal's bike, right? Right.

I'm not giving up, though. No sir. I will keep at this in the same way that I've (miraculously) stuck with the gym for an entire year. I will press on with tennis, too, and sign up for a beginner's clinic at the local tennis center this Fall so that patient friends won't have to keep putting up with my emotional breakdowns on the courts as they try to teach me the basics. (Yeah, okay, so I cried the first time we went to play. Stop laughing.)

Maybe, one day, I'll buy a bike of my own. For now, I think I'll take a tylenol and a nap. My pinky finger hurts.