Ten gears a' slipping
Today was day two of Operation: Bicycle Fit. I wouldn't call it a failure so much as a not-working-out-so-well-as-I'd-like kinda-thing.
To begin with, cycling requires the wearing of clothes that fit the sport, which is to say, FORM FITTING clothes. I am not a fan of said clothes, but around mile 7, you stop caring and start thanking GAWD that you aren't sweltering.
You wouldn't believe how easy it is to swelter in 50 degree weather.
My personal outfit starts with heavily padded chonies that make my arse appear about 4 times larger than normal. (YES, it is the chonies; just go with it.) The top is also form fitting, which is neither padded, nor has the same enhancing side-effect.
The result is that I feel like a Weeble Wobble, and unlike that fun-lovin' 80s toy, I occasionally do fall down.
So there I am, day two in the bike shop, in less clothing than a common hooker while a two men stare at my body and try to figure out why I'm functionally so flippin' odd. Ironically, it would be the first time I felt like a complete object, which is to say, like a defective clock or maybe a broken lamp or something.
After new components, adjusted shoes, queries about my torso length, moving my seat up, down, forward, backward, sideways, much discussion about the biologically shorter arm length in women in general, and voilà! Still no flippin' answers to my questions... but we're closer.
A wee bit closer.
And that's okay for now.
On the upside, my slipping gears are no more, as Blue, she has received quite a tuning. Little by little, day by day, I inch closer to being ready for this monumental ride... sorta.
To begin with, cycling requires the wearing of clothes that fit the sport, which is to say, FORM FITTING clothes. I am not a fan of said clothes, but around mile 7, you stop caring and start thanking GAWD that you aren't sweltering.
You wouldn't believe how easy it is to swelter in 50 degree weather.
My personal outfit starts with heavily padded chonies that make my arse appear about 4 times larger than normal. (YES, it is the chonies; just go with it.) The top is also form fitting, which is neither padded, nor has the same enhancing side-effect.
The result is that I feel like a Weeble Wobble, and unlike that fun-lovin' 80s toy, I occasionally do fall down.
So there I am, day two in the bike shop, in less clothing than a common hooker while a two men stare at my body and try to figure out why I'm functionally so flippin' odd. Ironically, it would be the first time I felt like a complete object, which is to say, like a defective clock or maybe a broken lamp or something.
After new components, adjusted shoes, queries about my torso length, moving my seat up, down, forward, backward, sideways, much discussion about the biologically shorter arm length in women in general, and voilà! Still no flippin' answers to my questions... but we're closer.
A wee bit closer.
And that's okay for now.
On the upside, my slipping gears are no more, as Blue, she has received quite a tuning. Little by little, day by day, I inch closer to being ready for this monumental ride... sorta.
posted by @traciAWESOME
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