When I prepared to move here, I had visions about how great the riding would be. I was, in fact, coming from a very mountainous state (you know the real ones; they stand over 4000 vertical feet. We even have fourteeners out there.) So, in my sugarplum, dancing fairytales, I imagined that my rides would be smooth, flowing singletrack. The obstacles would be entertaining and fun like a pure downhill course. Nowhere in my imagination did I have to worry about how you got up in order to go down. That's why they call it a fairytale.
I have come to realize, with a lot of pain and bruising (Thanks mountain bike), pulled muscles, and screaming quadriceps (Thanks road bike) that Maryland knows no definition of flat. Nor can I seem to find any magical fairies to take me to the top of the slope so that all I have to do is go down. My riding mates have heard me exclaim many times over about the horridness of climbing and, even though I am getting better and quicker (this is definitely a do-or-die crew), I have come to a third realization... I am a girl!
Damn! When did that happen?
Oh, being a girl for the sake of being a girl has always been fun, but I considered myself to be pretty tough too. You know, mud and mascara! Now, when I ride with my new mates, I find myself lagging so sadly behind that it’s a wonder that they ride with me at all. I would like to blame this on the lack of general flatness in Maryland, or the fact that I ride with a group that, for the most part, is ten plus years younger than me, or has been biking for ten plus years longer than me, but it boils down to this, and this is good so listen up...
I am not nearly in as good of shape as I once thought I was; and I have girl legs. What are girl legs? Well, mine are pretty shapely (if I do say so myself), but what they aren’t are boy legs. That means that no matter how many times I swear a blue streak going up a hill (And I swear a lot, though if it were flatter in Maryland I could swear a lot less), those boy legs, young and old, will beat me every time.
This was a realization that took some tears to come to...lots and lots of tears mixed in with creative phrases that would drain the color from a blue whale. (What? You didn't know that's what happens when you swear too much? Yep, it's true baby blue whales loose all their pigmentation, then they get sunburned when they go up for air…but I digress)
I cannot ever change my girl legs, but I can get in better shape. Like I said, this is a do-or-die group. Now, they are the most supportive, caring, soft and cuddly do-or-die group, but their expectations are high and I hate to disappoint. So, every time I get on the bike, I try harder and push myself further and maybe a little faster. Is this a good thing to be doing at my (we'll call it mini-mid life) age? (Yeah, that means not midlife just heading up that hill.) All I can say to that is hell-yeah!
This dilemma is what brings me to the point of starting this writing endeavor. It isn’t really so much, that Maryland is flat. No, what it really is...(I hear a faint drum roll being played by the Maryland stinkbugs) is that I decided that maybe I should take this a step further and write about my endeavors towards touring on a bicycle. So, what all does this entail?
I am really not so sure. And, in fact, the whole idea gives me moments of fluttery panic, in which in my new baby-blue whale conscious ways I try not to swear and instead take ten deep breaths and try to Zen!!!!!!
Hmm… still panicking. Maybe I will have to work on Zenning with less force. The reality is that I have no idea what this will involve, but I plan to keep myself and those around me as entertained as possible with my endeavors as I figure it out.
I know one thing for sure... I will be closely checking the weather and not believing a single travel brochure before I embark.
© 2012 Nichole Warren
