Yes, it was one of "those" workouts. Likely it will never happen again, which is a good thing.
This afternoon was my first time on a road bike in a long time. Husband and I planned to ride for an hour. Knowing he is so much faster than me, and in better shape than me, I took off at a decent (for me) pace. Read: never be able to maintain for an hour. Not to fear. I wouldn't have to.
Heading down our road, I was very aware of my thigh muscles within less than half a mile from the start. They didn't feel good, you know? We turned onto a slightly less busy side road. Husband warned me to slow down. But I didn't want to slow HIM down, so I panted through the slight rise in the hill.
We turned right onto another road. A hill loomed. I cranked down my gears. The hill grew as I climbed it. I desperately reached down to change to the lowest gear only to discover I was already in it. Ach! I muscled my way to the top while husband said, "See you at the top" or some such thing and effortlessly flew on past. Totally out of breath by the time I crested the hill, I allowed myself to coast a bit.
Repeat the last paragraph several times.
Turn right at the next road.
Down a slight hill, I raised my gear and took off. Rounding a nice corner, I suddenly heard and felt a loud explosion somewhere right by me. It made me jump, which didn't help me steer my newly-acquired flat-tired bike very well. I had instant visions of filleting one side of my body open on the road as I clung to the handle bars for all I was worth. I had no clue which tire was flat, but somehow had the presence of mind to not slam on the brakes (Thanks, Driver's Ed class. Does this apply to bikes as well as cars?). Holding that bike on the road till I finally slowed down enough to hop off was not fun. But when I did stop, I was more than relieved to realize I hadn't crashed, and had survived my first flat tire!
We pulled the bikes off the road. Husband opened his supply bag that was supposed to hold a spare tube, and discovered there was none. We were nearly five miles from home. After weighing our options, Husband escorted me to a nearby church yard, where I spent the next nearly hour wandering through an old cemetery reading tombstone dates and getting eaten by mosquitoes. It was interesting and at least my thighs were not screaming at me.
Meanwhile, Husband was having a bit of trouble on the home front. He had taken a key with him, but discovered it was not the key to the house. Read: grave frustration.
Suffice it to say that he did make it back to me, and I did get a lovely car ride home, and I did not have to ride my bike up the 50% grade driveway that we have. (That last part of the sentence was especially nice, although mildly exaggerated.)
Next time, we will ride with a spare tire and the correct house key. Lesson learned.
* * *
I am doing only the bike portion of the triathlon. Feel free to send encouraging thoughts.
* * *
I've talked my nephew into swimming, and another friend is running. Yay for friends and family!
This afternoon was my first time on a road bike in a long time. Husband and I planned to ride for an hour. Knowing he is so much faster than me, and in better shape than me, I took off at a decent (for me) pace. Read: never be able to maintain for an hour. Not to fear. I wouldn't have to.
Heading down our road, I was very aware of my thigh muscles within less than half a mile from the start. They didn't feel good, you know? We turned onto a slightly less busy side road. Husband warned me to slow down. But I didn't want to slow HIM down, so I panted through the slight rise in the hill.
We turned right onto another road. A hill loomed. I cranked down my gears. The hill grew as I climbed it. I desperately reached down to change to the lowest gear only to discover I was already in it. Ach! I muscled my way to the top while husband said, "See you at the top" or some such thing and effortlessly flew on past. Totally out of breath by the time I crested the hill, I allowed myself to coast a bit.
Repeat the last paragraph several times.
Turn right at the next road.
Down a slight hill, I raised my gear and took off. Rounding a nice corner, I suddenly heard and felt a loud explosion somewhere right by me. It made me jump, which didn't help me steer my newly-acquired flat-tired bike very well. I had instant visions of filleting one side of my body open on the road as I clung to the handle bars for all I was worth. I had no clue which tire was flat, but somehow had the presence of mind to not slam on the brakes (Thanks, Driver's Ed class. Does this apply to bikes as well as cars?). Holding that bike on the road till I finally slowed down enough to hop off was not fun. But when I did stop, I was more than relieved to realize I hadn't crashed, and had survived my first flat tire!
We pulled the bikes off the road. Husband opened his supply bag that was supposed to hold a spare tube, and discovered there was none. We were nearly five miles from home. After weighing our options, Husband escorted me to a nearby church yard, where I spent the next nearly hour wandering through an old cemetery reading tombstone dates and getting eaten by mosquitoes. It was interesting and at least my thighs were not screaming at me.
Meanwhile, Husband was having a bit of trouble on the home front. He had taken a key with him, but discovered it was not the key to the house. Read: grave frustration.
Suffice it to say that he did make it back to me, and I did get a lovely car ride home, and I did not have to ride my bike up the 50% grade driveway that we have. (That last part of the sentence was especially nice, although mildly exaggerated.)
Next time, we will ride with a spare tire and the correct house key. Lesson learned.
* * *
I am doing only the bike portion of the triathlon. Feel free to send encouraging thoughts.
* * *
I've talked my nephew into swimming, and another friend is running. Yay for friends and family!
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