Tuesday, June 25, 2019


Today I moved the front gear shifter about 3/4″ to the right and slapped a mirror on the new bars, and with the Spouse Thingy’s help (ok, I couldn’t get the nuts to turn so he wound up doing it all) the new seat went on. The bike looks spiffy and comfy, and it was close to dinner time, so we decided to take a short ride, around 5 miles, to both test the geometry of the bike and then stop for pizza.

I struggled. Like, seriously struggled. I had a hard time breaking 10mph but my HR was pushing 140, and nothing felt right. I was seriously questioning having changed so many things on the bike–for sure the seat needs a minor adjustment–and hoped I hadn’t just ruined the whole thing.

I caved at 4 miles and headed for the pizza place. And once off the bike I started feel nauseated and not-quite-angry but also not-quite-happy, and wondered how the hell I was going to make it home. It was just not a great ride, and I had visions of barfing pizza up along the way.

But then I ate, felt loads better, and on the ride home my speed shot up, the whole thing felt much better, and now I think just the seat needs a little tweak.

I’d had pasta for lunch, 5 hours earlier. There was just nothing left in my tank.

Lesson learned…for today. It’ll happen again. It’s what I do.

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