I think if Greg would have proposed a 70+ mile bike trip(let alone a substantial one in the future) to me early in our relationship, I would have given him my patented crazy eye look. Well I’m happy to report that after much bitching and moaning, as well as a very sore undercarriage, I did just that - a 75.94 mile bike trip, to be exact.
What would you do the day of your trip? Eat a hearty meal? Ensure all gear is accounted for? Nope, not me. I decided that a mere 4 inches of exposed lower leg needed to be shaved, and thus I did so. Dry. To add insult to stupidity, it was cold. Men may not understand but the ladies do. Dry shaved irritated legs are made all the more painful when your skin gets goosebumps.
So dawning my best padded spandex shorts(that really feel like one big giant diaper), several layers of clothes, and a big ol cup of coffee in my belly, we embarked on our cycle camping trip. For the most part the weather held up. It was a bit chilly with a curtain of dampness in the wee hours of the morning, but the clean air and green surroundings were beautiful. I only really held the boys up half a dozen times on a few massive hills, but they were compassionate good sports. The camp was festive with other camping cyclists joining our fire and exchanging good antidotes. One couple was trippin balls on some psychedelics that had them experiencing a not so pleasant plain of existence. And the raccoons...those little shits were relentless; coming up to our table more than once and slashing our tent in hopes of a ripe banana.
The next day we awoke to dewy freshness, birds chirping, and Dan with a spring in his step(blasted Dan and his infernal spring). I was stiff as a board and grumpy having not really slept much during the night(I’m trying to accept that I cannot take my pillow top mattress on this trip). I must admit, I felt good! For about 5miles, then I hated life again. How the hell am I going to handle biking 40+ miles a day, every day?! I know the answer: you build and your body adapts. Or you die trying! I kid. Maybe. I think the hardest part of this camping trip was being exhausted and facing the added insult to injury of one final climb up the hills near Saulsalito to the Golden Gate Bridge. Hence the very exhausted picture of Greg and myself in his previous post. I wanted to give up a few times on the second day but I prevailed. I did, however, sleep like a fucking rock after our trip
Lessons learned:
A. In the future I must remember to find a heavily spandex man on two wheels and ask his secret for a finely shaved baby smooth leg.
B. your under carriage will hurt like you rode through the desert on a horse with no name-bare back
C. I will fall while clipped into my pedals. Just accept it and hope for a soft landing
D. kids, don’t bake on LSD in a forest at night
E. Stretch, stretch, stretch. Ibuprofen, Ibuprofen, Ibuprofen
A lot of people think they can’t do great distances, but here’s the thing, you’ve got to start somewhere. Being someone who is notorious for psyching myself out, it is easy to choose the lazy route of just NOT doing anything. All you really need to do is start small -each day- small. Before you know it, the small is not so small anymore, and then your body actually gets mad at you when you skip out of the daily routine. Trust me, the hardest part is taking that first step.
