Brushing off the bike

One of my goals when I escaped university for a much needed break, was to go through all my remaining clutter that still resides in my childhood home. Needless to say I managed to get rid of 4 black sacks of rubbish and 5 bags of clothes/shoes/odds and ends. And yet, it doesn't seem to me that I have even made a dent in my old room! My room is very deceptive at holding more than you think it can... or maybe I have just always been good at cramming :p

To cut my post to the point, while I was in the swing of things, I also decided to have a little rummage through the shed. This was probably a bad idea as by the end of search, although I had found what I was looking for, I was covered from head to toe in spider webs and dead bugs. *Shudder* What I was looking for was my bike. A rather small, green and rusty bike that had 2 flat tyres. The poor thing was still covered in mud from the last time I had used it, and only god knows when that was. I suddenly felt very guilty for using and abusing this poor bike that had brought me considerable freedom and many memories. I have only abandoned my bike once before, for the new trend of scooters. I can quite safely say my love affair with the new trend did not end well. I decided to go down my local hill on it whilst wearing a hat... as I reached the fastest part of the hill, my hat flew off and instinctively my hand shot up to rescue it. Now anyone who has ever ridden a push scooter will know that steering requires both hands, especially at that speed. Needless to say, I ended up head first in the nearby hawthorn hedge and was forced to walk home in tears and very shaken up. I returned sheepishly to using my bike for high speed adventures.

 It was time for me to dust off the bugs and give my bike a well earned clean up in an attempt to say sorry for its long neglect. Now when you consider that I received that bike for my 10th birthday and I am soon to be turning 20, she didn't look too bad by the time I was finished with her. Even if I do say so myself! I was now just faced with 2 small problems... both tyres were extremely flat and I had grown a hell of a lot since my 10th birthday. That seat definitely needed a raise. Aha! you say, those problems are both fixable.... well not when you are me (have absolutely no idea where to start), live in an all female household who know just as little as me concerning bikes and have nothing useful to fix it. It was time to call in the cavalry. My childhood friend of 12 years was more than willing to give me a helping hand out of my predicament. But on one condition. I was to go out for a cycle ride with him.

Considering my newly set goals, I knew that I had no choice but to accept... however a nasty feeling settled in my stomach. Not only did my childhood friend cycle regularly and so was miles more fit than me, I also live in an area of "outstanding beauty". That could also be known as "bloody great hills everywhere". I knew exactly where he was intending on going, we had cycled it together plenty of times as youngsters, and in its 10.5km length it has at least 4 hills. Of which, 2 of those are vertical. Ok, ok, I exaggerate!!! More like a reasonable incline, but still! I am nowhere near being able to cope with these yet. Or so I thought...

I summoned up my courage and managed a convincing  enough smile and said "Let's do this thing!". Fast forward 15 minutes to me, red faced, sweating like a pig and swearing enough to make a sailor blush. Plenty of times I was offered a rest and I declined the luxury. There was no way I was wussing out now, especially not in front of him. I have way to much pride for that. And so I slogged on and damn am so glad that I did. 20 minutes later I got off my bike, extremely triumphant, covered in mud and looking an absolute wreck. The last time I attempted that route, I never quite finished it. It just goes to show that my recent gym work outs have done more than I thought had. In the process I also recovered my childhood love of cycling - the insanely hard struggle to reach the top is more than worth the joyous ride downwards, with the wind in my hair and a stupid grin on my face. I am not ashamed to say I had to resist the urge to woop like my 10 year old self!
If I am philosophical about cycling and almost every exercise I am beginning to grow to love, I have to say that it is a lot like life. That uphill struggle, pushing your body to its maximum and cursing why you ever started is all made worthwhile by reaching the top, seeing that view and knowing that it was you that got you there.

"It never gets easier, you just go faster." - Greg LeMond