The Accidental Cyclist

Blog sountrack:


This song is the soundtrack, because I was reminded of it today in a roundabout-short-story-long-story kind of way.

I attempted a 25-mile ride today. I say “attempted,” because it felt like “attempting” was all I did for an hour and a half before the ride. And, yes, I know, another cycling blog, Jean?!?!? Cycling is now my life. Didn't you people get that memo? In case you didn't, here you go. :-)



So, at 11:30am, I assembled my biking gear. Yes, it’s a lot of “stuff,” isn’t it?!



I was intent on a 52-mile day. And, to be honest, while I don’t really have to think about a 25-mile ride anymore, I still have to ponder, consider, contemplate, evaluate, excogitate, mull over, ruminate, and weigh heavily the 52-mile cycling trip.

At 11:45am, I hopped on my bike and off I went. I took a right onto Taft Street, and then I took a left onto Pearl Street. I love Pearl Street, because it’s all downhill; it’s the only time during the whole ride where I can reach 27 m.p.h.

Unfortunately, it’s also a very bumpy street. While I try to get up out of my seat when I go over the bumps, I went over one particular one, and I had a “flat tire” premonition. After cycling for so long, you can just tell. I thought I had escaped, because when I took the right onto Park Street, my front tire was still intact. I took a right onto the rail trail, and there it was!

Pssssssssssst.
Flat front tire.
Never ignore the “flat tire” premonition.



So, there I was, about a mile from home; I turned around and began to walk back. Yes, IF I carried a spare tire, a pump, and knew how to change a tire, I could have fixed it right then and there. BUT, those were a lot of big IFs for me! I had a “spare” bike at home, so I thought once I got there, I’d just hop on the Cannondale and address the flat tomorrow. No, I wouldn’t fix it myself. I would bring it to the bike shop in town! :-)

Things I Don’t Mind Spending Money On: Someone fixing my bike and someone doing my taxes.

As I walked up Pearl Street, I felt a drop of sweat run down my back. (Okay, here is where I finally tell you why “Dream Girl” is the soundtrack for this blog!) When I used to run at “work”, we’d all sit around for 10-15 minutes after the run on the grass outside the building. Many times, I’d be sitting there and feel a single drop of sweat slip all the way down my back; I always found it a very interesting feeling. Anyway, I have always loved this song and the video, but the feeling of the drop of sweat always reminded me a tad* of the lyrics to this song.

I was feelin’ like a creep
As I watched you asleep
Face down in the grass,
in the park, in the middle of a hot afternoon
Your top was untied
And I thought how nice
It’d be to follow the sweat down your spine.

*Tangent Tad Note: Did you know that “tad” (a slight amount or degree of difference) can be conjugated? Yes, and I invented it, surprise, surprise! Besides “tad,” there is “ted,” “tid,” “tod,” and “tud.” These are all varying degrees of “tad.” Now I want you all to start using them; thus, when everyone in the world is saying, “Yes, it hurts just a tid,” I can say that I invented this word trend. And, I can put it on my resume next to “Bikes 25 miles like it was opening a can of cat food!”

About 15 minutes later, I arrived home. I put the Lemond in the garage and pulled out my spare Cannondale.



I just had it tuned up, though I was a little hesitant about riding a bike that I hadn’t been on in several years; it was also much lower tech than my Lemond. To me, it was like putting on Crocs (with socks...ewwww!) instead of Steve Madden pumps! I got on the Cannondale, put my feet in the pedals, started to pedal and womp!

There was absolutely no resistance! I almost fell off the bike, because it would appear that the Cannondale’s pedals had gotten a bit possessive over time (jealous of the Lemond no doubt!), and it did not want to let my right foot out of its grip. One second before I was about to fall over in the road, I yanked hard and my foot came out. I stopped, looked down, and realized that the chain had come off or had never been put back on.

I pulled my other foot out of the pedal, dismounted, and I walked the bike back to the driveway. I leaned it against the car, and I put the chain back on. Just say “No” to greasy fingers; this is why I don’t do my own bike maintenance!



With the chain intact, I climbed back on, and I turned onto Taft Street for the second time today. After a few minutes, it was clear to me that I had outgrown this bike; this bike was not me, nor did I even want to be on it. This was the bike I had raced with way back when and had logged tons of miles on, but it just didn’t seem right anymore. I felt a bit like Goldilocks – “This bike is just not right!” So, I turned around, arrived back home, and the Cannondale went back into the garage. I put it in a far corner, because as I wheeled it by the Lemond, I swear it said, “Redrum, redrum!”



It was now an hour later after my initial attempt to ride, and there was only one thing left to do. No, not give up, but I was so close! It was time to take the Lemond down to the bike shop!



When I got there, the shop was closed, but the owner saw me in the door and must have sensed the desperate “I must bike 25 miles today, or I will not be complete” look on my face. Twenty dollars later (money well spent!), my tire was fixed, and I was on my way back home.

I climbed back on my Lemond; God, it was good to be “home” again, and I left the house for the THIRD time. Will she or won’t she make it to the rail trail this time? She did!

While on the rail trail, a male cyclist drafted me for about three miles, but then he faded when we got to Pepperell. You can tell a lot about a person by the way s/he cycles. This guy stayed on my tail the whole time, never passing me and letting me draft him. What does this tell me? He’ll receive but he won’t give; thus, um, he’s selfish on the rail trial and probably in other locales as well! :-)

At one point, I chased a cyclist. He was going at a pretty good clip, but it was odd because he couldn’t seem to cycle in a straight line; he swerved back and forth. He kept looking back at me, and when I finally caught up to him, I drafted him. I waited to see if he’d play the cycling game with me, but when we got to the next road crossing a minute later, he waved his arm to the left. I then heard him say, “I’m getting off here.” (And, I only heard him say that, because my iPod died when Mr. Selfish Cyclist was tailing me. Um, I downloaded “Catch Me” by Pretty Poison this morning and put it on my iPod. What can I say? I loved the 80s!!!!) I wondered if he really had to get off or whether Mr. Swerving Back and Forth just didn’t want to play the game now that I had caught him.

I know it seems like I have turned into this fierce cycling psycho chick. And for those of you who know me, you know I’m usually anything but fierce and psycho (well, just a tod mad!). As I said before, cycling lost its exercise value months ago. And lately, for lack of a job, it’s become my job to ride every day, and, as you can see, I take it seriously, err, maybe way too seriously. :-)

When you don’t have a job, I think you leave Funky Town faster if you give yourself a job; a job that involves something that you love to do. I loved my old job, but I am really glad I’ve got my new job on the rail trail.

What's my job description? "Ride 25 miles on the rail trail every day." While I don't get paid, well, except for that small bit I get from the State of Masschusetts once a week, it's a pretty good job. I make my own hours, work from home, don't have to fret over stock or stock options (just really over guys who want to catch me!) AND I get to decide where the "holiday" party is held! (December 19th, my living room, champagne and chocolate, be there or be square, people!)

While I miss my co-workers above all, the new job does have Bill, Jeff, Mr. Bounce Tropical Breeze, Mr. Selfish Cyclist, and Mr. Swerving Back and Forth, and hopefully, they're just temporary co-workers. Anyway, for now it’s all I’ve got; but, most importantly, it’s a job that I do every day and love. <3

And, it's a sweaty job, but someone has got to do it! (Eeek! Biking hair is far worse than beach hair, isn't it?!)