My tush hurts!
I rode my bike for 20 miles today. This is in preparation, for in 2 weeks, I will be joining the Register’s Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa (RAGBRAI) – an annual 7-day long bicycle ride across the state of Iowa. The total length of the course this year is 468 miles. I heard Lance Armstrong (disgraced or not) will be participating.
No, I’m not doing the whole 7 days, just a 1-day leg of the course. But that is still a 50 miles ride. And to ensure I finish the course without keeling over, I need to do some training.
I already ran a half-marathon (13 miles) race. Three times. Now I’m doing a 50-mile bike ride. I wonder what will be my next physical challenge. Perhaps the triathlon?
Triathlon includes: 1 mile swim, 25 miles bike ride, and 6 miles run. There’s one problem though, I really don’t know how to swim, or at least swim effectively. I don’t think dog-paddling for a mile, will be efficient.
However, my biggest concern with Triathlon is this: if you get tired running, you can stop and walk; if you get tired biking, you can stop pedaling and just cruise along; if you get tired swimming, you can stop, but you drown!
Back to my bike ride today, as I was pedaling my way through roads flanked by vast cornfields, while cars and trucks whizzed past me, images of my childhood and my old bike flashed in my mind. Am I riding down the bike lane or memory lane?
My father bought our “family” bicycle when I was 10 years old. It was a communal bike, but I used it the most. My father taught me how to ride it by holding on the back of the seat, while he ran along (he was a runner!) and I pedal. No training wheels.
Funny, that’s how I taught my son how to ride too. While my daughter learned how to ride on her own without any assistance from me.
I rode our bike through the narrow and busy streets of Manila. I rode it for fun. Though at times I was sent on an errand and rode it. Frequently I would go to my friends’ house in nearby Quezon City, and I would wield my way through bustling streets plied with jeepneys and tricycles, as well as crowded with people.
On rare occasions, while on the bike, I would hold on to the back of a slower moving jeepney to drift along. I realize now that, that was dangerous. What was I thinking? At least I never did stunt jumps with that bike. If it was a BMX bike, I probably would’ve.
When I was in high school, I got tired of its red color, and decided to change it. A friend of mine, whose father repair typewriters, had a compressor in their garage. So my two friends and I pick one hue and spray painted all our bikes with the same color.
What color? Purple! Don’t ask.
When I entered college, I rarely rode our bike again. Maybe because I find it kiddy-ish already. Or perhaps I wish it was more sporty like a racer or a mountain bike with gears. But it’s not. It was a “kid” bike.
But I had much fun with that bike. Lots of good memories too. And painful ones as well – skinned knee and elbow when I fell and crashed.
Now, I have my own grown-up “sporty” bike. It is a hybrid (a cross between a road and mountain bicycle) bike with plenty of gears. Yet I would have not be enjoying riding this bike – in the open road, with sun and wind on my face, if not for that red (or purple) “kid” bike.
As for the pain in my b*tt, I think I should get a fancy padded cycling shorts. For now, I’ll walk like a cowboy.
my grown-up bike