“You’re 8 months pregnant! Can you please stop riding your bike?” my concerned co-worker pleaded with me on a recent Friday. As we headed to lunch in her car, she’d spotted my bike glinting in the sunlight, conspicuously tethered to a signpost in front of our office. “Actually,” I corrected her, thinking back to my idyllic ride into work that morning, propelled in part by the most beautiful weather of the year, “more like 9.”
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