Pyro Bucks

Where do I begin? I'll start with the weather. The weather was the beginning and the beginning is a very good place to start. The weather and a sick stepdaughter. That's where it began.

Wednesday was a beautiful day. It was a promise. It got up to 60 degrees around 2:00 p.m. and those of us stuck inside at our desks moaned as those of you with flexibility and sick days sped around the neighborhood on bikes and running shoes clad in nothing but shorts. And sometimes a t-shirt. It was beautiful.

My stepdaughter was one of the indoor bound - she had a random viral infection of the vocal chords which prevented her from talking, singing, getting off the couch, eating, drinking or dressing. It was Hubby's assessment that she shouldn't be alone, so he stayed home with her for the second day in a row. Enter a brilliant idea from yours truly - I'll try and get a half day, take Princess to the doctor and get in an afternoon ride before we leave for dinner (on a side note we had tickets to see the St. Louis tour of Doubt at the Fox and dinner reservations for 6:00. It doesn't suck to be us, I'll grant you that). Boss Man - who is almost always very reasonable- was reluctant to let me go and turned into the Wicked Stepmother, with myself playing the ever popular Cinderella. Sooo, as the daylight was rapidly fading on her dreams of going to the ball with Pyro, Cinderella worked feverously into the afternoon, finally finishing at 3:00. There was time. Barely.

I found myself in a foul mood despite the incredible day - it seemed as though everyone had the same idea I had and hit the road at once. Traffic. Sucked.

Still, I made it home in time for a quick spin around the neighborhood - not the grand waltz through the park I was hoping for, but a quickie is better than a noney. Enter my clipless pedal system. A system I had been faithfully practicing on the trainer since Saturday. A system that absolutely rocks on the trainer. A system that embued me with false confidence - after all, I had practiced getting in and out of the things at least twenty times on the trainer - and systematically through my ass to the pavement. Painfully. To add insult to injury, being the brilliant cyclist that I am, I attempted to catch myself with my right hand. Brilliant. See below for result of that fine experiment.





Now, I know that most everyone has fallen when learning to ride clipless. However, I assert that I am most likely the proud record holder of "Shortest Time on the Bike Before Kissing Pavement". I didn't even get in one pedal revolution. Nope. I clipped in, stood on the pedal to push off and promptly fell over. In front of a dude in the neighbor's driveway. Who didn't even offer to help me. Even though I looked like an overturned roach, still clipped to my bike, rutting in the asphalt. It was fun.

The good news is that, once I managed to muster enough pride to pick myself off of the pavement, lean my beloved, fiesty Pyro against the house and attempt to remove most of the asphalt from my hand (and took the time out to snap the brilliant photo above), I switched my cycling shoes for my tennis shoes and got back on that little bronc. I decided that I better get used to the bike and the nuances of handling her before I go and try and add some fancy shmancy clipless pedal system thingy. I spun around the hood for about twenty minutes - long enough to mostly stop shaking, put the bike away, licked my wounds and got ready for the theatah. I am so going to kick ass on the bike leg. As soon as I get up off the asphalt.