When I got the axe from work, on the way home I took the early Red Line Stop at Bethesda, instead of coming down to Friendship or Tenley, closer to my house. I wanted to meander and ponder the suddenness of my newly gained employment status. Permanent Vacation, Aerosmith album title style. Extended holiday. Work challenged. Leisure Engineer. Whatever the term, I had become a statistic, and not a good statistic. Something more akin to the back of a health clinic pamphlet. And yet, this is reality. I still have my legs and my Bike Friday. The IRS can pry that from my cold, dead hands! So, you can see the meanderings of this post exactly echo my mind and my bike ride on that fateful day. The Capital Crescent Trail wends on, oblivious to the chaos in my head. Eyes front. Watch for peds and dogs! Well...
What to my wondering eyes should appear but a group of young mothers, all gathered in near--well, nearly to the side of the CCT, in a half-circle. There they were ensconced, a veritable gaggle of Gracos, babies in various states of WTF as the moms, clutching stroller handlebars and brakes, jumped and juked and swayed to the marching orders of Head Mom. She whipped them through a rousing round of trailside Strollercize. Maybe they have a denoument of lattes and light stretching. I'll never know, as I was out of sight by then. And I applaud them, each one, for getting out there and getting active, being social and, well, for being damned creative. I'd have never thought to organize a Strollercize class. I merely rode by on my bike with thoughts of how to cover the mortgage.
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