Last year, I gots me a bike.
A fancy, dancy bike.
With bullhorns and bar-ends and a cut out...OH MY!
Not only is she FREAKING GORGEOUS, she's wonderful to sit on, shift on, and stand next to.
And she and I have already spent over 700 miles together, me in her somewhat uncomfortable seat (I didn't want to mess up the fit I got by messing around with putting my Terry saddle on...so I've learned to just deal) and her propped up on the trainer.
Yes. You read that right.
I have a new bike that I've logged 700+ miles on...in my basement.
What does that get me? Season 1 and 2 of Rescue Me and the knowledge that interval training and reading subtitles do not play well together.
What does it NOT get me?
Um...yeah, BIKE HANDLING SKILLS.
So, there you have it. I'm not sure I can ride my bike. With all the ass kicking my coach has been handing me in the name of "you're the one who signed up for an early season half, remember?" I know that I'll be stronger going up all those hills out there.
If I don't fall off on my way to them, that is.
Here's the good news.
This week it broke 50 degrees. It felt like bathing suit weather. Bad news was it did this lovely feat while I was at work and recovering from a throat infection. (Yucky. I know. It's over now...let's not discuss it.)
But hand-to-God, the first time it breaks 50 and I'm not at the office, I'm dropping everything and heading out on the road.
You know...to see if I know how to work my breaks. And turn corners.
Watch out, world. Get the peroxide ready.
[Update: You know what? I lied. It's more like 550 miles. Not so good with math here. But that's still a LOT to do without touching asphalt.]