Biker chick

Years ago, in my first season of real biking, I had a favorite T-shirt: “Biker chick,” it said, over a picture of a fuzzy yellow chick perched on a bicycle seat. That’s me, an unathletic softie, an unlikely cyclist.

And yet I am training for a century ride just over 5 weeks from now. No guarantees and no promises but I am on schedule. It isn’t easy what with one thing and another. First it’s the weather, all those thunderstorms then heat, then wind. Then it’s my knees. My right knee, to be specific, and my right hip. 

My right leg seems weaker than my left leg. My left leg says what’s the problem? It is fine and sturdy and never aches. My left leg is developing a biker bulge in the muscles above the knee. It’s bigger than the bulge on my right leg. I am trying to encourage the right leg to do its share and not back off for fear of hurting and it is working. My right leg can now go 20 miles without aching. But it’s still not equal to the left. On Monday’s ride a little ache snuck in at a new place, just under the right kneecap. I talked my hamstrings into doing more of the work and it helped. But a day later the hamstrings were complaining. Whatever.

The legs are doing pretty well, though. They are not yet hundred-mile legs but they are 40 milers and this weekend they will be 45 milers and up and up.

It’s the tush that’s giving me fits. This is not a matter to be discussed in mixed company so I will not go into details but I don’t suppose it requires much imagination. The thing is, the tush problems are worse this season than they have been in the past so I’ve had to investigate new measures. Like chamois cream. The name of this substance dates from the days when bike shorts had chamois crotches that you had to soften up. Now you just soften yourself up with products called Assos or UdderlysMOOth or Beljum Budder. More than you need to know? OK. (Oh, here’s one. Century Riding Cream. Rub it on and magically go 100 miles?)

Another problem is boredom. Short rides take you over the same territory you’ve ridden countless times. You have to be content with small pleasures and observations. I see the soybeans are starting to turn colors. My, the corn is tall and smells like sex. On one recent ride we saw two tall birds, a heron and a sandhill crane. That was truly exciting.

Long rides may get you into new territory, with lunch in the middle, but they are lo-o-ng. Especially after lunch.

Yesterday, aching in various places and contemplating yet another 15-mile circuit under the toll road and past the hog farm, golf course, and goose bog, I decided there was only one thing to do.

It was time to buy new clothes.

I went to the friendly bike shop in Niles, the place where the guys had complimented me on my trusty, rusty little hybrid Bianchi when I took it for servicing rather than trying to sell me a new one. They told me she was a “bike-shop quality bike.” They tuned her up and made her sing, at least on the level stretches. I huff and puff up the hills in her low gears.

This time I headed for the small rack of women’s biking shorts. I bought the most expensive pair I could find. Price = padding. And then I treated myself to a jersey with flowers on it and didn’t even look at the price.

And then I went out on that 15-mile ride, smiling all the way. Even my tush was smiling. Bike short technology has improved a lot in recent years.