Last Thursday, about a mile and a half from home, I rode over a long but shallow pothole. I heard two large bangs under my feet. I had never experienced a blown tire before, nor had I ever heard the bang of a tire blowing out, so I was actually relieved to see that the bottom of my bike was still intact (I thought that my bike chain just dropped off, possibly along with my back gears) and found that the noise was the result of my then-deflated tires, bursting. I dismounted safely, surveyed the damage and knew that I could not ride my bicycle home. Now, I know, and was subsequently advised by passing teammates who stopped to check on me, that it is better to carry your bike, as opposed to rolling the bike, in order to avoid damaging my bike rims. So, I lifted my bike up and started carrying it home. And, as I walked home, I could swear that I heard my bike whispering to me, “So, big boy, how do you like walking a mile in my shoes, hauling me around?” Adding insult to injury, about halfway home, I could have sworn I heard my bike say, “Hey tough guy, even if you lost another 20 pounds, you would still weigh more than 125 pounds more than me!”
Is it strange that I now feel somewhat sympathetic towards my bicycle?
By Sunday, I had both blown tubes fixed at the bike shop and was in tip top shape, ready to go on my TNT bike training ride. For the first time, our coaches led the team out of the SUNY Purchase campus and onto neighborhood streets. We biked up Claire’s Climb, one of the major hills that we will tackle in the triathlon, then went down the hill and then went right back up the hill…and down… somewhere between three and five times, in total (if it sounds a lot like knocking your head against a wall, you’ve got a perfect picture of what it feels like). Not fun. Then, after all that, on the way back to campus, BANG! I get another flat, a solid six miles away from my car.
Luckily, two TNT mentors and a coach stopped to help me out, because otherwise, I would have been walking back five miles in 88 degree Fahrenheit heat. For a few minutes, it seemed like we were stuck in a bad joke (all because of my ineptitude), “How many TNTers does it take to change a bicycle tube?” First, I had the wrong size tube for my tire rim, which resulted in one of the mentor’s hard work, changing the tire tube 85% to completion, worthless. Then, the mentor’s hand cramped up, as a result of the exertion. We went through two other tubes, which didn’t fit my rim, until Regan, a TNT coach, pulled out a tube that fit (pretty much) my rim.
Unfortunately, Regan had just gotten a manicure before the weekend (she didn’t mention this until she was 65% of the way through changing my tire) and had ruined it on my account. She expertly fixed the tire, sweating, pushing, pulling and prodding the tube and the tire, and then pumped the tire up, to boot. My contribution to the effort was standing by, watching and saying, “thank you.”
– I did absolutely nothing.
What I didn’t tell Regan, or the other mentors, is that I know how to change a tire, but didn’t help because I too had just gotten a manicure, and I didn’t want to chip a nail.
(Just to be completely clear, I had NO idea how to change a tire – as sad as that sounds – and, I actually did not get a manicure, but I might as well have – I stood around looking and feeling like a useless idiot, thanking the heavens that such a strong and capable woman like Regan was in my life to help me out with my busted tire.)
THANK YOU TNT MENTORS AND COACHES FOR ALL OF YOUR HELP!
