Spaz on Two Wheels

I did it. I finally got on the new bike I got for Mother's Day and rode outside today. But not merely a short jaunt to the park, oh no. I rode 30 whole miles with the members of the bike club from my gym. I would say I felt like a total bad-ass when I got off my bike but I was limping like I rode bareback on a horse for 3 days. Bowlegged and thirsty and fulfilled, yup, that was me at about 9:30 this morning. Wow, that could sound raunchy if I wanted it to....

I was so nervous to ride that far, mostly because there are a bajillion gears I need to know how and when to change. What if I fall off my bike? What if I blow a tire? What if I can't hack it and had to have someone come pick me up? What if I have to take a shit in the middle of my ride?! Well I earned the "Neighborhood Spaz" award early this morning by practicing using my cycle shoes with the clips on the pedals. Clipping in, not a problem. Clipping out (when you release the shoe from the fastener doo-hickey on the pedal), PROBLEM. I stood there with one shoe unfastened, one shoe cemented down. Then before I could yell, "Big Mama going down!!!" I did just that. My ankle was connected so tightly, all I could do was flail my arms as the whole bike pulled my down sideways. My right calf grazed the chains (bruises). My left knee took the brunt of my fall (brusied and skinned), and my ass took the remainder with the bike smashing onto my left thigh (3 huge bruises). I know it's hard to envision the logistics of my 'tard fall but it would be on YouTube had anyone been up early enough videotaping random neighbors. Spazzed out freak can't even stand there and I'm not even on the damn road. Freak. Loaded the bike, helmet, shoes, water bottle, and the minuscule amount of pride I had left into the Jeep. Not a good start to my adventure morning.

I Mapquested my route, which kindly neglects to update if construction is happening. Two things I hate, being lost and being late. I was most definitely lost and getting imminently close to being late. Then I would bag the whole damn thing. I was cursing like a longshoreman trucker with Tourette's Syndrome. Not pretty. Finally found the building after asking a stranger. One lone minivan waited in the parking lot with a bike on a rack. I guess I was in the right place. Only a few riders showed, despite the clear blue skies, lack of wind, and mild temps. Pussies. We met another leader/spin instructor along the way. His calves were so toned they looked like inflatable prosthetic legs from a Gladiator costume. He is in pretty good shape. The wind was blowing in my face. I inhaled the fresh, clean air. And bugs. And the pungent odor of fresh cow dookies. And I am talking PUNGENT like a daycare room full of shitty diaper-clad toddlers. It was easy at first but the pace picked up a bit. We lost one rider who claimed we were too fast for her. Again, what a pussy. I was panting and pumping my legs (insert perv comment here). I was winded but enjoying myself.

I started to feel a sharp pain shooting down towards my lower back on the left side. It reminded me of when I had a kidney infection. But instead of being jacked up on morphine, I was in the middle of nowhere on a bike, pedaling fast and furiously. Soon after this I began to notice a sensation I once experienced when I first started taking spin class. It is a condition known as Labialis Poonani Paralysis. My crotch felt numb at first, so I shifted a little to one side. Then my cooch felt like flames were engulfing it. I shifted back a little and as I rode, we hit rhythmic little seams in the road. In a car it would be completely undetectable. On this bike it felt as if a tiny elf with a giant meat tenderizer mallet was trying to smash my labes into chicken paillards with each bump. Over. And over. And OVER. I pedaled quickly up to our leader, who happened to be wearing the uber-UN-sexy padded bike shorts. Then I glanced at every other biker on our journey and realized they were ALL wearing these maxi-pad loaded pants. And they were fucking geniuses. I casually asked, "Just out of curiosity, how far have we gone already?", which really meant "How much fucking longer, Lance! My pussy is two smashed pancakes of pain thanks to you!!" Oh, we only had about 15 more minutes. I toughed it out as best as I could. I chatted with Tony (a.k.a. Mr. Wondercalves) in hopes that laughing about my grave vaginal condition might make me forget. Yeah I forgot like when you get a paper cut on your eyeball with cardboard. But Tony laughed and I vowed to invest in the Stayfree MaxiPad You'll Never Get Laid Wearing These Pants bike shorts.

We rode back into the parking lot of our departure. I made it! I did it! I unclipped VERY carefully and did not fall. But I quickly discovered I was walking hunchbacked and more bowlegged than Lance Bass at the gay pride parade the summer after he came out. I was hurting folks. But I rode 30 miles. I didn't shit myself. I didn't topple over in retardation or exhaustion. I did not fall off my bike. And this big spaz is planning on doing it all again next Sunday. Can I put Novocaine in my panties?....