Solitary confession
Well, 24 hours after Mrs B and the girls abandoned me I am still alive and kicking, and so is the cat, so things must be going OK. However, I’ve just had a bad experience that I thought I would share with you, so we can all learn to become better people together.
I have been unfair to Mrs B. There, I’ve said it, confession is good for the soul and all that. First, as a bit of background, let me remind you that I go on about cycling quite a lot. In fact I go on about it more than I do it, if truth be told.
Well, one thing I perhaps haven’t mentioned, is that before I turned to road cycling I used to do a bit of mountain bike riding, sometimes with Mrs B. and sometimes on my own.So when a couple of years ago I got a brand spanking new road bike, I generously allowed Mrs B use of my old mountain bike. This is the bike that she now uses when she goes cycling. You might also recall that my own bike has ‘cycling pedals’ so can only be used with proper cycling shoes, not with ‘normal’ shoes.
Now back to the present. Mrs B has taken the car with her to England (oooh we must be poor if we only have one car), so when I needed to go and get some bread I had a choice - our little tractor (unfortunately not registered to be on the road, and also rather slow), or her bike.
Easy choice, of course, so I set off. Then came back, raised the saddle a few inches, and set off again. Easy-peasy I thought, for a big-shot cyclist like me. Well, it was a bit like tugging a wheelbarrow into town. The big knobbly tires (need inflating, I mustn’t forget) took a superhuman effort to drag them along the road, and the front suspension (usual on mountain bikes, to soften the ride) seemed to bounce up and down in imperfect rhythm with my pedalling. So if you can imagine a cowboy on a bucking bronco towing a wheelbarrow, you will be pretty close to imagining my ride.
There were other problems that I hadn’t thought of - the brakes are on the other side on her bike (my front brake is on the left, hers is on the right) which gave rise to some scary moments. And the enormous padded saddle she has, compared with my own narrow strip of hard leather, should make it nice and comfortable, you would think, wouldn’t you? Well perhaps it’s because I didn’t wear my padded shorts (seemed a bit excessive when popping to the bakers) but the ‘big comfy’ saddle has given me blisters you can only dream about, although I wouldn’t recommend that you do.
I don’t know what speed I managed - there was too much sweat pouring down my face to read the little computer - but it’s the last time I smile pityingly when she tells me she did 20 km at 20 kmh, and say comforting things like ‘Well, it can only improve with practice’. From now on I’ll have the flags out for her return, and a big jar of moisturising cream to hand to help with any unfortunate abrasions.
It’s also the last time I buy bread, so I have to make this loaf last 12 days until I get the car back. That should help me lose a few pounds even if the cycling doesn’t.
PS Hope you watched the Tour de France - it finished yesterday. Floyd Landis won, having made an amazing comeback from three days earlier, when he gave the appearance of being ready to quit the race. And with an arthritic hip giving him trouble as well.
Apparently he is from a family of mennonites (have I got that right?) and in his early races his parent made him wear long trousers, because it was against their religion to expose your legs in public. It seems his parents, who are still strict adherents to their religion and wear traditional dress etc, are now being besieged by journalists, and the local bike shop where he bought his first bike is in danger of becoming a shrine.
Must be kind of a thing with cyclists in the USA - Lance Armstrong, an ex -cancer sufferer, won the Tour de France seven times. You just have to have a completely implausible background of reasons why you should fail, in order to motivate you to succeed. Great stuff, amazing.
