Ive been wanting to try cycling. Is it called cycling, bicycling, peddling or cranking? I dont have the foggiest idea what its called but I finally did it last night with my ass mortal enemy Alan. He invited me to a ACE Tuesday ride in Raceland. I was told it would be a nice, easy ride of only 20 flat miles. This should have been a warning because whenever you combine the words nice, easy, and 20 miles it should be an automatic clue the person speaking is full of white poop from a large cat. As I walk up to Alan his first question was how long since Ive ridden a bike? Well lets see, my last memory of riding a bike was several years ago when I rode a bike home from a wedding, in a tuxedo, in the rain. Along the ride home I saw a buddy, his lovely bride, and his grandmother rocking on the porch so I decided to stop and sit a spell. I can only imagine what was said on that porch. My apologies to grandma. So I told Alan simply, it has been awhile. After he points out which shifter does what, which I promptly discard as useless information, I took my first spin around the parking lot. All is going well until I realize the one thing, Alan didnt tell me where the brakes were. Alan yells at me to run into something cheap and soft but the only thing cheap and soft in the parking lot was sitting on the bike I was riding. Thank goodness my Fred Flintstone brakes brought me to screeching halt. We take off cruising at a nice pace. I congratulated myself on my obvious well above average performance for a first timer. I just knew Alan was over there thinking about what a true badass I was. He explained the advantages of cycling such as being able to just cruise around at nice leisurely 14 miles per hour or you can bust it out at 22-24 mph. So I asked him how fast we were going, expecting to hear at least 20 mph followed by him declaring me the best first time rider in the history of ACE. What I heard next made me weep on the inside, oh about 12. By this time my legs hurt and the seat had burrowed so deeply in my sphincter that I was now polyp free. Ive made it to mile 2. I had now released all pride and dignity as person after person passed me while talking a mile a minute and drinking from a water jug. I hear a few people exclaim the biggest lie in amateur sports, you are doing great. I smiled through the tears and prayed for the end to come. Finally Alan said only 2 more hills. Up to this point I at least prided myself on not having to walk up any hills. As we came up what most would describe as a small knoll my legs gave up. I am now staggering up a slight incline trying to walk this bike up the knoll and losing every last bit of dignity as I go. I just knew that earlier that day some 70 year old lady rode up the hill with a basket of groceries while dinging her little bell with her thumb. I cursed that little imaginary old lady. Well after 18.5 miles I was done. Im not sure what happened to the last 1.5 miles but I can only assume Alan found some mercy in his soul and cut it short. My nether region now is so sore I need to dig out the old hemorrhoid pillow just to drive to work. I was feeling around in the shower this morning expecting to find that I had accidentally stolen Alans bike seat hidden in my prison suitcase. I cant wait to try it again in my new padded spandex shorts. Pics will follow. You are welcome.
Posted on: Wed, 17 Sep 2014 21:06:33 +0000
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