Today was a good day for a bike ride. One that I am out of shape for. (My butt is not too crazy about me right now, and my legs only stopped burning 20 minutes ago.)
John had an idea of where he wanted to go, so I said, “I will follow you,” out loud, to his back as we took off, and for the next half hour, I had Little Peggy March’s “I Will Follow Him” in my head. I didn’t have headphones, I didn’t even have my phone, and we were going too fast to chat. I had only my brain to save me, and oh, brain, you failed. Little Peggy March faded to Sister Act, back to Tiny Peg, back to Whoopi not measuring up to her choir, and all the while, I was resisting the urge to be the crazy person pedaling madly after a man, singing “He is my destiny!” at the top of my lungs.
Too funny. If you were singing at the top of your lungs, no wonder your throat was hurting however many days later that was.