Vanquished in Valencia

After three days spent traveling, eating paella and Spanish tortilla, and drinking sangria (it’s cheaper than water!), I told my sister we were going to get ourselves together and go for a run.

“But what about the beach?” she worried.

I figured the beach would still be there after we ran and that we could visit it then. She looked unconvinced. At last, when I had made it clear that I intended to run at least six miles today, we got on our bikes and she started leading me to the river.

The first thing I did when I woke up Sunday in Valencia was rent a bike. SB bought hers, a baby blue one named Sandra Dee, from a flea market, but afterward she learned that selling bikes at the flea market is actually illegal as said bikes are usually stolen. We thought it would be better for me to acquire a legal mode of transportation, so I met her at MegaBike in the Plaza de Aragon. The man working there presented me with a large black bike. At first I laughed because I thought he was making a clever and heretofore original joke about my height (or lack thereof), but quickly I realized he actually intended me to ride it. To prove to him that the bike was demasiado grande I hopped on and took a spin around the block.

The best thing about my rented bike is that when I sit on it I’m about twice as tall as I am in real life. The second best thing is that it has a big black basket on the front. The third best thing is that I don’t have to swing my leg over the seat to get on. The bad part is that the brakes are on the pedals and I keep forgetting that and come close to crashing into cars several times a day.

I want to name her “Black Beauty”, but so far no one else has liked it.

As we wheeled Black Beauty and Sandra Dee out of the garage, my sister reminded me, “It’s really hot outside today.” I laughed because I ran outside while at home in Augusta, were it was so hot and humid that before even doing anything my knees started sweating. Incidentally, though I actually did not realize that knees sweat until last week, mine have demonstrated their ability to do so multiple times in the past few days.

When the garage door opened we were blasted by a nuclear wind that almost blew me over. “We could turn around and forget this,” my sister suggested hopefully.

I thought about it but held strong. “We’ll feel better once we run,” I told her, and mounted Black Beauty. I was pretty sure even my hair was sweating, but I firmly believed that running was a good idea.

We started biking to the river. The first segment is in the sun. After about a mile SB said, “Last chance to pull over and just have a drink instead!”

I shook my head. If only I’d known the extent of my foolish pursuit then.

Once she realized running really was my plan, my sister switched tactics and began telling me how biking was good exercise and that I should just be glad we’d been doing that. “I’m going to run today,” I reiterated.

“Fine,” she finally said. “You run and I’ll try not to pass out.”

I laughed because I did not know she was serious.

After running a little under two miles I got cold. This is not a good sign when you know it’s hot outside. Then my vision blurred a little. I stopped right before I started seeing black spots. “I thought you were kidding about passing out,” I groaned to my sister.

“Not really,” she said.

I’ve been running between six and ten miles all summer, so once I got my vision back I was determined to run again. I got about another mile in before an Asian man stopped me and suggested I take a break because I looked pale. That was more embarrassing than having to walk before I completed two miles.

In the end I had to admit that my sister was right and we should not have tried to run. The only gratifying moment was during our bike ride back when we learned it was 42C – almost 108 Fahrenheit.

For the rest of the evening I made sure to tell everyone I had gone running when it was 42. Since no one with us was American, they were all very impressed.