It’s Just Like Riding a Bike…

Today I hit up Crappy Tire and bought a new inner tube for my mountain bike.  I got the back wheel off no problem (I was concerned about the bike chain) and grappled with the inner tube.  Wrong size.  I took a nap, had a (stress-filled) visit to my Doctor and then got a better inner tube.  I came home bound and determined to work off some of my mad and frustration with some bike work.  The little bit of rubber that sits against the hub (if that’s the term) had worn away, so I taped it back into place.

Office Mom had told me I probably wouldn’t be able to get the tire back on myself because Handsome had a hard time with his bike and needed lots of elbow grease and a spoon to do it.  I must have been in a zen zone because I had the tire back on with hardly any trouble at all.  The cussing started when I put the wheel back onto the bike (without bolting it back into place, thankfully).  The chain and got all twisted up and turned around.  My hands were black with grease.  I washed ’em up and consulted Google and YouTube on how the chain should look.  Finally, I got the thing into place the way you need to in order for it to not get all knotted up when you try to ride it.

Some effort was required with pumping more air into the tire.  Mainly because I didn’t want to burst the tube but it felt full.  I was worried that perhaps my ass was too fat to ride a bike, but determination gripped me and I got it inflated!  I grabbed my snazzy red and black helmet that  I’ve had since I flipped off the handle bars of my bike in grade 10 and snatched the MP3 player off my desk.  I pushed that bike up the stairs and out into the fresh air and fading sunlight.

My excitement was almost palpable as I swung my leg over the seat and nudged the bike forward.  I glided down the driveway and my feet hit those pedals with a zealousness I haven’t felt in years.  My legs pumped, my heart pounded, my breath screamed in and out of my lungs and the beat thumped into my ears.  I pushed hard and made it two kilometers before I let the bike coast.  My muscles screamed as I hung a left and took a hill.  I pressed myself further and took another left as my legs cried out for mercy.  I glided to a stop, waved as the cars gave me the go-ahead for the right of way.  I sailed down the small hill and took the turn for home.  In the last kilometer stretch, as my legs wobbled, I stood up on the pedals and used my last burst of energy to speed home.

I hopped off at the front door, stupid smile plastered all over my face.  My legs nearly gave out as they hit the asphalt.

Riding a bike might be the closest I will ever come to flying.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Christian
    May 16, 2010 @ 17:56:08

    Just want to say what a great blog you got here!
    I’ve been around for quite a lot of time, but finally decided to show my appreciation of your work!

    Thumbs up, and keep it going!



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