doing it

It was awkward at first, as expected.

It had been a while - almost six weeks, embarrassingly - but you seemed to say that was okay. I made multiple disclaimers, like how I was never really good at this to begin with, but that I could make up for my lack of skill with enthusiasm. Or try. And as long as everyone was having fun, that was okay, right? You seemed to agree. Or you just wanted me to hurry up and get on with it. Understandable, given how cold it's been.

I self-consciously fumbled a little in the beginning, trying to feign confidence but sort of paranoid that I wasn't going to perform up to expectations. But we fell into a solid rhythm without trying, until I was panting and sweating to the point where I couldn't even pretend to be lady-like.

You pulled some surprising moves [me: "woah, okay...okay, we can do that..."] and there were some negotiations ["can you shift a little to the left? Oh yeah, right there..."], but that was par for the course. After 90 minutes, I was getting pretty sore, but you were like "are you having fun?" And I was like "yeah, yeah, heaps," so we just kept on going.
You had me wobbling home, collapsing into bed, completely spent and perfectly happy. You said we should do it again, and I agreed.

Because, hey, riding outside can be really fucking fun.
[Thanks, loads, to Josh, A, and Y for keeping me riding and reminding me to YOLO this past week. <3 you guys.]

a superb visit

Bar exam study has been keeping me away from bikes, but on the verge of going insane, I escaped to Superb yesterday afternoon for a well-deserved break.

Ahhh bike porn. The day got even better when Jason showed me his new Land Shark road bike. With vintage Time pedals...!

Of course, the sick Geekhouse with powdercoated rims to match was his, as well.

And perhaps my favorite thing I saw there...

A few hours later, I headed home to try and apply the above attitude ["even faster, even faster!"] to studying. That didn't work out so well. Still, it's good to know where to go whenever I need a break that involves cool bikes, awesome stuff, and stellar people.
Superb, I'll be back.

bike shop christmas

As per the usual morning routine, I grabbed my eyeliner pencil yesterday morning, unsheathing the magic black wand that helps accentuate the eyes that I don't have. One eye squeezed shut with the accompanying eyebrow raised, hand poised, leaning in towards the mirror...
I stopped. Who was I going to need this for? The exam proctor???
The pencil got capped and tossed back into my make up bag. Besides, I figured that looking absolutely haggard would keep me from hanging out anywhere on the way home.
I should have known better. I mean, I do know better...but despite my age, I'm still recovering from junior-high-nerd-status and can't resist the opportunity to hang out with the cooler kids. Bags under my eyes, skull still freshly throbbing from the effects of a tax law exam, sweaty from being overdressed for the warmer afternoon weather, and with no eyeliner on, I bounced into Cambridge regardless.

And found that not only were all the cool kids working there yesterday, so was the infamous [and slightly intimidating] Mr. Croth. I got to bask in his vicarious cool for a grand total of five minutes before he jetted off in those rocking red gloves and the giant Ortlieb bag that was made to smuggle small children into the country. Meanwhile, customers came and went, Jason had his nose buried in paperwork and I started to feel bad skipping around and just being in the way.

Until, of course, Dan came in from the service door, announcing a shipment of bike goodies that Pete described was "as big as a Christmas tree." And indeed it was. There were countless boxes of...everything. Taped and tied together, then wrapped in a plastic cocoon, all it was missing was a big red ribbon. It was like Christmas morning; for once, the bags under my eyes and general haggard appearance seemed appropriate for the occasion. And with the energy born out of unexpected surprises, I pitched in a hand, carrying and ripping open the plethora of boxes.

It was awesomely fun...the best part being that I didn't even have to clean up or organize the huge pile of everything. I left two hours later, secure in the knowledge that Cambridge is currently fully loaded with pretty much everything I happen to currently need. Tubes in every size imaginable? Check. Wicker baskets? Check. Freewheels? [Yes, freewheels.] Check. Cookies? Probably.
Well, okay, maybe they're not stocking any mini road bikes with my name written all over it. But I'm working on that. Maybe, hopefully, for Christmas.

freewheel fun

Almost exactly six months ago, I was still freewheeling it on the Bianchi. I bought into the hype and was consequently terrified of going fixed; hence I was stuck in that gray area of the freewheel where I almost got scene points until I started coasting. The resulting inferiority complex really killed me.
Ironically, I flipped my wheel over last October not because I wanted to belong to a "scene," but because I stopped convincing myself that I wasn't good/cool/skilled enough to go fixed. Fuck the "scene," fuck the trendiness, fuck my scarred up knees - it couldn't be that hard. And, honestly, it was stupidly easy. I even stopped crashing every month.

Six months later, I'm back on the freewheel...and I'm quickly developing a new appreciation for it. Having officially gone clipless, I figured I'll minimize the chances of crashing [I don't really miss it] by getting used to the whole clipping in and out thing on cranks that don't always have to move with your rear wheel. I struggled with it both on a trainer and in the parking lot behind IBC but managed to clip in, not crash into an SUV, and get out on the street.
In the middle of traffic, I belatedly realized that I wasn't fixed anymore. I tried to slow down by stopping my feet and nothing happened. I was still moving. And I was headed straight into the back of a stopped car.
My sluggish brain finally pooped out a memory of Erich, a mere 10 minutes ago, saying, "oh yeah, you have brakes. Use them." Brakes! Shit! Use them now! I managed to slide up next to the stopped car, slowing down, then accelerating again as I jerked my knees up and down like a wind-up toy soldier until I figured out that I needed to clip out to stop because my feet were attached to my pedals.

It took about a good half hour but I finally got the feel of a freewheel again. There's more planning involved, now that I don't have my feet to slow down with, and going really slowly is actually really hard. On my evening ride last night, I felt faster though; and while hills are sort of a bitch, coasting through turns is so much fun.
This might be cheating, but I'm almost tempted to keep that freewheel on for that century...