Everyone that rides with pedal and shoe systems where you clip into them has told me, “You’re going to fall.”. (See, I’m such a rookie that I don’t even know what the technical term for this system is, and I’m pretty sure “thingy” is not a technical term).
Many, if not all of these people, advised me to practice on my trainer at home before hitting the road, which I don’t think they meant literally but maybe they did. Even the young guy at the Trek store said. “You’re going to fall. My Mom does it all of the time.”. Well that didn’t make me feel better about anything but he had good intentions. In his defense he also helped me get fitted for a seat, and anyone that knows what that entails, knows that it’s the last thing someone with ‘child-bearing’ hips wants to do. He was a good sport.
So this week as I was starting to freak out about my ride, and how fast it was approaching, and how many miles I’ll be riding in one day, I panicked and pushed chores aside, and told the kids that they could game and watch movies until their eyes glazed over. (Now mind you, my limit is two hours on the bike, so they would only be semi-glazed). My only request – Please do not ask me to do anything that would require me to get off of my bike.
Speaking of two hours, I typically have a two hour window with Logan’s T1D care, so I timed it perfectly, he ate, was dosed and I was ready to ride. I got on the bike, fired up and omg, why did I not buy bike shorts sooner?!. I admit I was feeling proud of myself for making the time, ignoring my to-do list and most importantly the kids were having fun. Yay me.
I started to pedal, taking my shoe in and out of the clip, feeling pretty good about it but still had images of me coming to a stop sign and falling over. Clip, ride, turn, out, clip, ride, turn, out…it was going pretty well, but I didn’t have to stop for anything, yet.
“Wait a minute, did the bike just sink down?”. I felt the bike shift downward, like it was sinking into a groove. I didn’t think to much of it and kept riding. A few minutes later I thought to myself, “Am I leaning towards the left? Feels like I”m leaning”. So I sat up, pedaled, and sat back down, trying to readjust. Next thing you know it I was on the floor. Well technically, on the boxes and I’m pretty sure I yelled “Oh sh*t!” on the way down. My daughter came running into the sunroom to make sure that I was o.k. and the two of us were laughing so hard I thought I was going to pee my bike shorts.
I got up, nothing look damaged, the bike looked good, I felt o.k., I intended on getting back on but after all of the commotion I realized that I was running late so I figured, ‘tomorrow’. (I didn’t want to be late for a Mom’s night out to celebrate a friends birthday, we were going racing!). I just couldn’t believe that of all places, I fell in my home. In my sunroom. Grateful it wasn’t in traffic, etc., but still….my sunroom?
After a close inspection the next day I did find out that I bent the wheel and my upper left arm and shoulder are sore and bruised from falling onto my pile o’ boxes. Which was part of my ‘to-do’ list but glad that they broke my fall. A little ibuprofen, I’m good as new, or a maybe just a newer version of the old.
So, you ride, you fall, you get up and ride again. Or maybe you just decide to run instead. Or if you’re like me, you take some ibuprofen, wonder if you should take a nap, then you decide to ponder it all over a treat from Lucky’s and get ready for the next ride. Either way, just like anything, there is a moment of hesitation but then you saddle up, lace up, buck up and keep going.
I have a little over 2 months, not by much, before I do the 100 JDRF ride. I’m totally psyched about doing it and totally scared. It’s new territory, cycling that is, it will stretch me further, but that is also a part of the excitement. To see how far I go, and to see what brings me up and what brings me down. It will be uncomfortable I’m sure, but that’s where the magic is, the surprise, the “Holy crap, did I just do that?” and then the celebration, and tears.
I”m sure there will be tears. My cheer squad won’t be with me this time around and I will be missing them. I will miss seeing them at the finish line, because for as focused as I can get during an event I have never been happier than to hear someone cheering me on and hugging me at the end, and then looking into Logan’s sweet little face and knowing in my heart that I would ride or run a million miles if it gave him a cure.
May you feel inspired to push yourself, cheer for another, and celebrate every victory. Every step, every mile…they are all worth it. Slow or fast, even if you end up on the floor of your sunroom, they always keep us moving towards our goals. Have a wonderful weekend!