I'm riding Stevens Impala racing bike, with aluminum frame and carbon front fork. Sweet wheels. But am now regretting my ill-advised decision to not bring my own bike seat.
My husband urged me to but I thought, too heavy. Won´t pack it. But when you´re on a cycling trip in a distant country, it´s always a good idea to bring your own saddle.
So the seat on my fancy rental racing bike is sleek, but on a long ride it's like a slow enema. We did 90 km today and my legs are fine, but um...not the rest.
Halfway through the ride past orange groves and beautiful adobe homes, all I could think about was getting off that seat.
"So, who's going to pull the seat out of my ass, so I can sit down and have coffee," I asked?
No takers. Not a very supportive group. And the group leader said, "I'm not your gynecologist, but I'll take a look."
Roy, a fellow cyclist and 60-year-old lawyer from Philidephia said, "Actually, what you mean is proctologist."
Then I had to start with the proctologist jokes. They told me to shut up.
We had cafe con leche and sat in a beautiful courtyard, kibbitzed and then headed back. The towns are uniformly cute with one- and two-story clay structures with green shutters, courtyards, narrow streets and wonderfully indulgent drivers.
Verdant fields are surrounded by low stone walls and this route was rolling.
I left my husband a panicked message to drop my seat off with a fellow Ottawan who was flying to join the group tomorrow. Here's hoping she got the message.
If not, I will be visitng the bike shop. Soonish.
After dinner, I watched families dancing a traditional Mallorcan dance in the hotel courtyard. The footwork was intricate and the rhythms they clacked out on their castenets were rapidfire.
I watched grandparents dancing with their grandchildren, teenagers and married couples dancing the same dance to the same song over and over and I smiled until my face hurt.
My husband urged me to but I thought, too heavy. Won´t pack it. But when you´re on a cycling trip in a distant country, it´s always a good idea to bring your own saddle.
So the seat on my fancy rental racing bike is sleek, but on a long ride it's like a slow enema. We did 90 km today and my legs are fine, but um...not the rest.
Halfway through the ride past orange groves and beautiful adobe homes, all I could think about was getting off that seat.
"So, who's going to pull the seat out of my ass, so I can sit down and have coffee," I asked?
No takers. Not a very supportive group. And the group leader said, "I'm not your gynecologist, but I'll take a look."
Roy, a fellow cyclist and 60-year-old lawyer from Philidephia said, "Actually, what you mean is proctologist."
Then I had to start with the proctologist jokes. They told me to shut up.
We had cafe con leche and sat in a beautiful courtyard, kibbitzed and then headed back. The towns are uniformly cute with one- and two-story clay structures with green shutters, courtyards, narrow streets and wonderfully indulgent drivers.
Verdant fields are surrounded by low stone walls and this route was rolling.
I left my husband a panicked message to drop my seat off with a fellow Ottawan who was flying to join the group tomorrow. Here's hoping she got the message.
If not, I will be visitng the bike shop. Soonish.
After dinner, I watched families dancing a traditional Mallorcan dance in the hotel courtyard. The footwork was intricate and the rhythms they clacked out on their castenets were rapidfire.
I watched grandparents dancing with their grandchildren, teenagers and married couples dancing the same dance to the same song over and over and I smiled until my face hurt.
Posts
That's great, Patti. Sorry about your ass, but I'm glad you've been smiling. Good for the soul.
ReplyDeleteGlad to hear the adventure is going well despite your ass issues. I know it's a desperate measure but try a frozen gel pack on your seat - it will take the sting out of your tender arse (and move it to your pride).
ReplyDeleteGuess you regret that you're not better padded in the ass area like some of your good friends, huh? Sounds fantastic, for the most part -- hope your rescue seat gets there to rescue your seat.
ReplyDeleteLove the conversation about the bike seat...hope someon comes to the rescue with your seat! Smiling is good for the soul. Hope the rest of your trip is full of smiles and a comfortable rump!
ReplyDeleteThe seat arrived! Now I only have one painful smile--the one on my face. My upper cheeks are sore from smiling and laughing so much.
ReplyDeleteyeah! good news. having just started my daily work commute by bike, i can't imagine what you ass felt like the next morning after 90km! hope the rest of the trip is ass friendly.
ReplyDeleteI was checking to see if you posted and got tickled all over at this title...you know some of us get two because we marry one! Sorry I couln't resist!
ReplyDeleteSuzicate, you "cracked me up" with that comment. :)
ReplyDelete