So brilliant, we thought.
The kids will love this, we thought.
Right about now, they were looking so dapper in their helmets, and we were sure to start a family tradition.
With the wind in our faces, we took off on the trail.
But we didn't account for that business of less air at high altitudes.
Or hills, in general.
Or rain and a search for shelter.
Or children who would fall asleep en route and sabotage their afternoon naps.
After several hours of a scenic tour, we weary travelers returned our bikes. In contrast, the boys hopped out of their trailers, feeling fully rested after such a gentle morning's ride.
We are smiling, but I assure you:
Robb and I are each painfully aware of the parts of us which are unfamiliar with routine cycling. And the bicycle seats involved.
We spent the rest of the week sitting on padded pillows and thanking the Lord above for a minivan to carry us where we need to go.
(I'm exaggerating, only slightly. We really had fun... once we abandoned the sprawling hills around Dillon and explored the more predictable paths through town instead. But I do not exaggerate about the loss of afternoon naps, which easily cost us two days' recovery.)
And for the rest of the week, we passed other cyclists on the road, and we casually looked at one another and quipped with such cleverness,
"Hey, that looks like fun. Maybe we should give that a try."
And then we dissolved into laughter.
Over our own foolishness.