Don’t call this exercise

I am no expert on things, but it seems that boys are pretty energetic by default, and by nine in the morning when I am peeling them off the ceiling I would call it downright rowdy.  Just recently we have discovered that Ben has finally grown big enough to handle a 16 inch bike.  This opens us exciting new energy release outlets for us because he can now ride fast enough to keep up- the little 12 inch wheels made him like a dachshund trying to keep up with a greyhound.  So the scenario looks something like this- Jake and Ben are flying down the trail near our house and I am pushing Sam and Abby in the double jogger just trying to keep them in sight.  Given their intense enjoyment of riding the bikes OFF the pavement, I am breathlessly shouting out safety precautions and instructions the whole time lest someone fly straight into an ancient remnant of a barbwire fence or right off a sheer slope down into the river.  Which is only 24 inches deep right now so the chances of rescue are pretty good, but still it would be traumatic for everyone involved.  The whole time I am feeling like a crazy lady and trying really hard not to wet my pants.  There are still many postpartum issues in play here and like everything else, things just aren’t the same as before having kids!  The scene has all the makings for a great Nike commercial (HA!) or better yet a plastic surgery commercial.  When all is said and done we have traveled about 3 miles and I am drenched in sweat.  It feels pretty good.  When it comes to exercise I am at risk for having an all or nothing mentality and as a result set myself up for failure every time.  So this, what we are doing, is NOT exercise.