Getting Back on the Horse
After months staring at my expensive bicycle I finally got on it.
Ok, I wasn’t very ambitious. I only rode 3.2 miles to get my sea legs back. But that was the only way to get started.
If I’d done more I would be sore, walking stiffly for several days, and otherwise miserable. Been there, done that. And I knew it would be tempting to go farther–and it was.
It was much as expected. Pointy seat was pointy, thighs groaning at the first slight uphill. But what startled me most was I forgot how to ride.
Yes, I could balance and yes, I clipped in my second foot on the downhill run from our driveway. However, I immediately realized I was in the wrong gear for the uphill to the top of the street. I was way into the wrong gear. Then in my panic I compounded the problem by switching the wrong gear! I’d forgotten which hand controlled which gear.
Yikes!
Not more than a few seconds into my training ride and I was in danger of losing what momentum I had and falling over. If I did I’d break who knows what. Nothing for it but to power through it, get some momentum, and change into some reasonable gear. I did, but it was a tense start.
It’s been so long since I’ve been on my bike I’ve forgotten why I stopped. There was that unfortunate episode with the urologist in the fall. Then there was winter. Then it began raining. Yeah I know, rain in Bakersfield. We’re such wimps here. In Toronto, they ride in all weather, even in the snow. Then Covid 19 for 34 days. Blah, blah, blah.
I dreaded just getting suited up. It takes a lot of gear to cycle: socks, shoes, tights, chartreuse jersey, hi-vis cycling vest, water bottle, then cap, gloves, and finally the helmet.
On my second lap the thrill and enjoyment of cycling finally came back. The fresh morning air, the easy cadence, the sights and sounds of being out in the world reminded me why we do it.
My brain, still on high alert for any more possible mistakes, kicked in and said that was enough for one day. I’d finally got back on the horse.
