My bike screamed in agony and so did I. The small little tires of my road bike are not made for people like me (Hefty), so my bike screamed under my weight. The big tires of a cruiser or a mountain bike are better equipped to handle my rotundness, but there I was on my little road bike pedaling my ass off (actually I would have to pedal thousands of miles to pedal my fat ass off) and my body screamed in agony.
I am following a woman ahead of me (not in a stalking way). She is a cyclist. Lean, aerodynamic and skilled; she glides through the trail. I had vowed to keep up with her. I was doing everything to keep up. She made little circles as she pedaled, while I stomped down on the pedals; she easily talked to people as she passed them, while I gasped for air. To her this was a little training ride, to me it was war (and not a cool war like WW II or the French Indian War, but a crappy war like Vietnam or Iraq (not the first Iraq War)).
In the end two truths came out. She is a cyclist and I am Heft on Wheels.
2 comments:
That really sucks, doesn't it?
Did you ride on the Silver Comet or on a trail at a park?
I'm not sure what sucks.
Is it that you are feeling sorry for my bike? Don't, it still prefers that over being stuck in the garage.
Is it that a women was trouncing me? Huh, I didn't know you where so sexist Jenn.
Is it that my body screamed in agony? You know the old saying, "No pain, no gain".
Or is it that I'm heft on wheels?
That doesn't suck. It is what it is.
P.S. it was the Silver Comet. Cooper Lake Rd to Anderson Mill Rd and back.
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