My new workout/commute started today and the ride there, aside from burning quads and wearing too many layers, went relatively smoothly. I took the bike path like a friend had suggested and it took me about 35 minutes. I'll try the road I usually drive tomorrow to compare time. I felt great when I got to work! I was energized and ready to get moving on my daily projects.
You can join me in this week of eco-commuting by signing up ator find an organization hosting such an event in your state!
I really looked forward to the ride home. As I was getting ready to leave, I ditched the shoes I brought with me and my top layer shirt with the hope that a loaf of bread would fit in my pint sized Camelback when I stopped at the store. Otherwise I'd have to go home then ride back out with a larger pack. I really need bread. I've been craving fresh croutons on my salads for a week now. It fit, by the way, barely. So I locked up shop, threw my pack on, adjusted and fastened my helmet and was ready to be on my way. I jump on, start to pedal out of the driveway and POP! Eff! I'm still in front of the building! Nate's out of town and I have no tools (actual tools or brain tools) to fix whatever just broke. It's my back tire/tube. Again. Today was my first time riding since Nate replaced the tube on Friday. After a brief unqualified inspection, I find a crack in the tire. Blast. That's not a simple tube replacement. I'm really surprised Nate didn't notice the crack before. Hmmm. What to do seven plus miles from home with a flattened tire. I'm certainly not carrying the bike, as mentioned earlier, my arms are just short of useless since this weeks intense yoga sessions. It'll have to tough it out and just roll with me. OK. I'll walk it the four (plus or minus) miles down into town and with my fresh pay, fix myself up with a fancy new hybrid tire. Not what I had in mind when I tucked it into my wallet before leaving (3 minutes ago) but what else can I do? Walk I suppose.
I make my way down the road and about a quarter mile down, as I'm crossing a driveway, a jeep cuts right in front of me. WTF? He gets out, pops his trunk and insists on taking me to where I need to go. Oh. Really though? Get in some strangers car when I wasn't even looking for a ride? Again, hmmm. Making a mental note of his license plate I accept. Turns out he's neighbors with my bikes previous owners and he's got his own bike shoes in the front seat.
It was an uneventful, very much appreciated act of generosity and I hopefully would be home within an hour or so than if I had just ridden straight there. I thanked him a third (maybe fourth) time as he pulled my bike out of his car and told him next time I saw him around, I owed him a jar of PB.
I walked into the shop and was instantly asked what could be done to help me. Fifteen minutes and thirty bucks later I was pulling out into the street good as new. Though thirty bucks more determined to make my new tire worth the trouble and every penny it's predecessor cost me. This will not be a week long novelty project.
So I made my way home and got there half an hour later than planned and my patience tested. That bread that barely fit into my bag? It tasted mighty fine with some peanut butter and a green apple (and fluff...shhh). A well deserved snack. Let's hope tomorrow proves to be less eventful. I do have to say that the experience of slowing down and actually living the ride is miles from riding sealed off from the world with the radio blaring. Biking allows one to smell the blossoms of spring, the dirt and sweat on the skin of the horses I pass everyday. To see the other bikers as they wave an initiation to me, welcoming me into their club of slow travelers who get to feel the roads we travel.I may just be hooked. Tune in tomorrow for day 2.
Pic of my new tire and Stella wanting some of my pb and fluff sandwich.