I have long entertained disparaging thoughts about my elders whom I observed pedalling their way around the city and accompanying countryside, adorned in spandex, odd helmets, and weird shoes. I confess to all that I have must apologize for the years of those thoughts because I have become one of those elders, although my wardrobe is not quite as trendy.
During my high school years, it was all about team competition and not a lot about exercise. As I transitioned to university, it was about performance, and intense training was a necessary component. Once active competition was left in my wake, I continued to stay active through my role as coach, jumping into drills with my players, boasting loudly when I bested them. As I "matured" so did my "Dad bod" and its accompanying midriff inflation and exercise was a chore that was oft neglected. It's only been in the last 10-15 years where I have actively chosen to embrace regular daily exercise, although I admit that the regularity has been dodgy at times. Most of my more recent efforts in the last 7 years were born from of fears of my own mortality, and although I envisioned myself as a runner, I still shunned the idea of pedalling around the townships as an exercise choice.
That all changed this spring when I suffered a slight tear to a meniscus in my knee, ironically while I was attempting to rekindle my love affair with running. I tore a meniscus in the other knee while I was playing football in university, so I was familiar with the discomfort, but this time the healing process was slow ... frustratingly slow. I knew that a low-impact form of exercise was in my future and biking offered all that plus more. Much like a high school crush, the intensity grew quickly, and I found myself longing to be out and about with more consistency. In a previous post, I confessed to a goal of 200 KMs a week, a benchmark I am extremely proud to say I have been successful in achieving. The great news is that my meniscus has healed sufficiently to allow my KMs to creep upwards without being hobbled afterward. The meniscus is still an issue, a subtle twist here or morning stair climb there serves as a reminder that isn't completely vanished.
Like so many fanatics, I have discovered that biking is a covert money pit, as desires to deal with the annoying discomforts of the trade bringing with them a price tag that is often shocking. I have already shared stories of mishaps that led to mechanical fixes that took a chunk out of my credit limit, but now it's accessories and their perceived "need" that is nickel and dime'ing me to death. Having admitted that, I have not yet embraced the Spandex bedazzled fashion trends nor the clip-in shoes and their hundreds of dollar cost, but I feel that the slope is a slippery one, and I could arrive at that place sometime in the future.
I will "fall on my sword" and publicly admit that I have become a cyclist. Despite the heat wave we are experiencing, I have ventured out into the hinterland of the surrounding townships to rip off a 40 or 50 KM ride, bluetooth earpods playing ... at safe levels ... my chosen tunes, thoroughly enjoying the experience ...
Wait!
That's a lie!
I have resisted spending but I suspect that at least one pair of biking undershorts are in my future. My legs can handle the long rides but my hind end cannot and I'm told the shorts are the best solution. And my trusty steed has developed a few clunks that I would guess are important to get addressed, so a tune up and some shorts in my spending future. It's the trickle effect of purchasing that rubs me the wrong way with $50.00 here, $30.00 there, all curiously "great deals" on premium stuff, but I'm not sure that I really need top of the line. Since I'm such a newb, purchasing from Amazon or the like to save some money is harder since I can't physically see the item PLUS I feel strongly about supporting local business with my purchases, especially in this pandemic.
I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't. I think my money will stay local ... that's more important.
If you see me out and about the local countryside, feel free to roll down your window and holler for a pull over. That happened on today's ride and I had a great catch-up with a high school football buddy named Ken Dube. It's not like I don't have the time and I'll reward you with a great conversation and a pretty terrific smile.
You know it Freddy "... I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike ..."
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