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what appeared to be a twelve-year-old girl exclaimed to me from the front desk.
She held up a shiny silver bag emblazoned with the words SoulCycle over and over again.
This is for you!
I told her that my birthday was in May, and that surely there was some mistake.
I must have mixed you up with someone else.
She handed me the silver bag that she was holding.
This is your five hundredth ride!
Ive ridden at SoulCycle five hundred times?
The girl nodded a lot and asked if I needed any shoes or water.
I shook my head no, dizzy from this new information.
I envisioned lying on my deathbed, surrounded by my children and grandchildren.
Mom, my oldest son, James, whispers.
Tell us again about the time you rode a stationary bike five hundred times.
I ask everyone to lean in closer so that I dont have to strain.
Son, I say.
But where did you go on the bike?
Where did the bike take you?
Cabinet is five years old and just learning how to ride a bike.
Nowhere, I answer, staring at the ceiling.
It was a stationary bike.
The kind of bike that is bolted to a stand so that it doesnt go anywhere.
What kind of stationery?
Cabinets older sister, Morph, asks.
Was it the kind with butterflies that says thank you on it?
I laugh out loud.
Morph never was too sharp.
No, Metamorphosis, I answer.
This stationary is spelled with ana.
Stationery, the kind you mean, is spelled with ane.
Stationary starts withS, Cabinet observes.
Surely Mandy must recognize that time is of the essence?
a child named Grand Rapids pipes up.
Why did you ride the bike so many times, Grandma?
Why did she ridethe bike so many times?
I hope that I am the one who inherits her cool2075 Ford Taurus.
I mean, why did she ride the bike so many times?
WhydidI ride the SoulCycle bike more than five hundred times?
Get comfortable with getting uncomfortable, I advise Michael, who sits on the couch reading an actual book.
Ride into the pain!
I add, heading into the kitchen for more peanuts.
At SoulCycle, they call the riders who take the 6:00 a.m. and 7:00 a.m. classes Roosters.
I guess they call us that for a reason.
Roosters get up at dawn and so do we.
But you dont understand just how strong you are until your security is threatened.
You dont know the fight you have within you until that fight for survival is put to the test.
That part didnt particularly bother me; I also hadnt had a wash in a couple of days.
And it wasnt the wild hair or the mildew scent drifting my way that made me nervous.
It was 5:58 a.m.
There were only two minutes before Rique would start to pound that beat.
There wasnttime for a change.
Madison T. turned to me then.
Ellie, she began.
I looked at Madison T., a smile frozen on my face.
The smile was my mask my true face, the one under my mask, was frowning.
Oh, Madison T.
I had signed up for Bike 11 on purpose.
It was truly a lottery win the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Bike 11 had knobs that were not too tight, but neither were they too loose.
The seat did not wobble; the handlebars were firm.
I cant really remember how I got to Bike 12.
What Im trying to say is, I honestly dont remember how I got to Bike 12.
Sure, Ill move over a bike, I heard myself saying.
Because thats what a real champion does.
She doesnt sit around feeling sorry for herself and her horrible bike with no mirror view whatsoever.
Its not only because Im a Warrior.
Its not just because Im a Legend.
No, the reason goes beyond any of those things.
Its because I am an idiot.
Excerpted fromMy Squirrel Daysby Ellie Kemper.
Copyright2018 by Ellie Kemper.
Excerpted with permission by Scribner, a Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
