Okay, so this isn't going to be so easy

I pulled together my kit, got the bicycle out of the garage and tried to mount up. My intention was to do a trial run to the office.

Well, that was the plan, anyway.

It took me an absurd amount of time just to get the pannier open: I couldn't figure out how to get the release latch to work. Finally, I got the bike loaded and my helmet on. Rob came out to watch.

I felt awfully insecure just trying to mount the thing. Folks, I haven't BEEN on this bicycle since college. I had rented a bike when we were on a camping trip about four years ago, a touring bike. This bike, however, is a men's racing ten speed. It was hard for me to believe that I actually rode this thing confidently all the time when I was in high school.

The first thing I had to do, immediately, was lower the seat. Lord, did I really ride it with the seat set that high, way back when? I had trouble just getting my leg over the damn thing--I could feel the problem with my hips that had given me such problems in karate. I finally got mounted and tentatively started rolling it in a forward direction. I felt damn precarious. "I think I'm just going to start by riding it around the block."

"Walk it down the hill, don't ride it," Rob advised. I rolled forward six feet and stopped, unnerved. "Um, I think I'll start out unloaded."

"That's a good idea," said Rob.

So I took it out the alley and down the block. I was scared. Good god, I used to ride this thing? I had thought that the muscle memory would be there a lot more reliably, but the hiked up position felt extremely unnerving. How did you change the gears again? Ohgodohgodohgod. I managed to get around the block, but I felt shaky just raising my arm off the handlebar to signal my turns. I took it back to the garage. "I'm not going to be able to ride this all the way to the office," I told Rob ruefully. "Not yet, anyhow."

"Well, I think it's still a little early for you to start commuting," Rob replied. "You haven't even been on a bike for years; you don't need to cope with the ice and snow while you're still trying to remember the hang of riding it."

I had to admit that this was true. "I think I'm just going to take a ride around the lake. On the bike path, rather than the street."

So that's what I did. I was astonished and humbled at how quickly I got winded. Lordy, I thought I was in pretty good shape, but the half hour ride wiped me out. I quickly got very thirsty, and I don't have a water bottle mounted on my bike. Something else for the check list. My nose ran like a faucet, too. I managed to get back home without spilling the bike, but I'll admit I found the whole experience pretty discouraging.

"So maybe you're not going to be able to do the whole thing at once," Rob said. "That's okay, you'll get there. Just work your way up to it."

"I could take the bike on the bus or the light rail on the way in, and then ride it home."

So, I guess I'll spend the next few weeks, every chance I get, just trying to get back on the bike and riding it without a load, getting myself accustomed to simply riding again. The folks at the Hub had mentioned, when they tuned it up for me, that I might want to change the seat, which is awfully small, hard and narrow. Given that my ass is much bigger than when I last rode this bike, I would have to agree. naomikritzer, you were right; it's going to take a while to get my bum broken in on riding a bike again. Not to mention the rest of my body.