Let's chew the fat.

Actually, that's the problem.

I do chew the fat.

Then I swallow it.

No wonder I've gained 35 pounds since I moved here 10 months ago. All those drive-through windows have led me straight into the fat fast lane.

It's fun looking like the Pillsbury Doughboy for a week or so, but when Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade officials came knocking on my door the other night asking my availability, I knew I was in deep cookie-dough doo-doo.

I was having it my way too often and had no idea where I was going to find the break I deserved.

And then ... the answer, or at least an answer that will help begin the slow shedding process, came from loyal reader Lisa Pawelski. She sent me an e-mail suggesting I join her and her husband, Ken, one weekend for a bicycle ride. The six-mile trek from Millvale to the Carnegie Science Center would offer, she promised, "lots of great cross-river views."

Me? On a bike? I hadn't had to pedal as a mode of transportation since ... well, let's just say this butt hasn't seen a bike seat in more than 30 years. Great cross-river views or not ... I was sure I'd end up in the river, and the water displacement would cause Millvale to flood again.

Fast and furious e-mails went back and forth, ending with Lisa's promise that the bike path would be "flat and totally suitable for old farts like me" -- meaning her and me.

And so I found myself on Easy Street early one recent humid Sunday. Lisa's neighbors, Dawn and Lynne, had loaned me an Easy Street mountain bike; its frame was a bit too small for mine, and the soft pliable seat probably wasn't meant for someone as cheeky as I.

I've been in more uncomfortable spots, and I was determined to win this race. Lisa is a dermatologist, and I couldn't afford to lose any skin off my back. Fat, yes. Skin, no.

I met Lisa and Ken at their Sharpsburg home, where after a quick round of intros (their 15-year-old daughter, Liz, came with us), we piled in the family van, bikes on rear rack, and headed toward the Millvale skate park.

Before I really had a chance to grasp what I was doing, I found myself pedaling down the Three Rivers Heritage Trail, a muddy rutted path (the trail is paved only at the Downtown end) past the mighty Allegheny. Lisa was leading, then me, then Liz, then Ken. But within a few minutes ... whoosh! I was in the lead, pedaling and passing everyone and everything in sight.

Fellow bicyclists, dog walkers, those out for a jog, patches of dogwood and wild rye and alder, fishermen hoping for a bite ... whoosh! I was leading the pack. Damn if anyone was going to rain on my parade. Sweating was a whole different story.

We had no horns or bells, so every once in a while if I felt I might careen into someone, I yelled an advance warning. Except for the one large black dog who looked like he wanted to make me his brunch, this pedaling paradise was easier -- and more fun -- than I thought.

We'd stop every once in a while to read a historical marker or gawk at the sights, still pretty awesome despite the haze. Ken is an organist at St. Paul's, and he eagerly pointed out the steeples of St. Stanislaus Kostka and St. Mary's. Seeing various bridges from this viewpoint was pretty interesting, as were the familiar and not-so-familiar Steel City sites/sights. Look! The wavy Alcoa building! The Convention Center! CAPA! Kayakers and motor-boaters! Another Duckmobile! Kids splashing in the cascading fountain! And isn't that the Point? Whew! By the time we biked to the future home of the Mister Rogers memorial, I was ready to suck down another diet root beer.

My favorite resting point was the outdoor sculpture park at Allegheny Landing. Some works are covered with graffiti, and one, "Piazza Lavoro," a sculpture that symbolizes Pittsburgh's contributions to American labor history, is in awful disrepair. "Mythic Source," one part of the two-piece sculpture, lies smack dab on the bike path, so wheels and heels have, over time, destroyed a good portion of the mosaic and stone work -- the Heinz Company and Heinz Family commissioned the work. Can't they take some of the ketchup proceeds and play catch-up and restore Ned Smyth's wonder?

Anticipation is making me wait for their answer.

And my next bike ride.