Friday, February 26, 2010

Hi, my name is Carly, and I have a problem.

I live within walking distance of five...count em...five bike shops. There could be more for all I know, but so far I've identified five. To say that the Twin Cities have an affinity for the two-wheeled sport is a bit of an understatement.  When you see people riding their bikes in -20 windchill...you know that there's a problem, and Minneapolis, I'm here to tell you that the first step to recovery is admitting it.

So here I am, admitting it. Hi, my name is Carly, and I think I'm becoming a cycleholic. I prefer the term "bike nerd", as I enjoy replacing the term "enthusiast" with the word "nerd", but to each their own.

It started my first couple months living in Uptown again when I attempted to ride to work with my former roommate/present-day coworker. Now, let me just tell you that at this point I am the proud owner of a Raleigh that was brand new sometime in the 70's. At this point in my story, it hadn't seen an oilcan in at least a decade, so let's just say that the ride was quite tough.  I picked myself back up this last summer and took my bike in for a little TLC. Still, even with new brakes and a freshly oiled chain, I still only rode to work once or twice. In my defense, I'm not exactly a morning person, so hopping on my bike at 7am wasn't really my idea of a good time...but I'm coming around to it.

So, I hate to be "that girl", but I have a confession to make; It wasn't until I started dating a bike nerd that I really got into it (cycling that is). A girl's gotta do something to impress the guy she likes, right? Having someone in spandex with a six-pack and beautiful hazel eyes explaining the different kinds of derailleurs to you is just the kind of motivation I needed. My delusion came to an abrupt halt when I actually went for a ride with him. I realized that I was way out of my league (only with this bike thing, thank god). He didn't mean to, god bless him, but he nearly killed me.  In my defense, the gears on my bike don't exactly change, so it's like I'm riding a fixed-gear bike, and I'm no Olympic athlete. After my recovery, I started riding with my roommates during the summer; to the lake, around the lake, and back. A lovely way to spend an afternoon and a healthy way to travel, what more could a girl want?

I'll tell you what...padded butt shorts for starters.

It doesn't end there though. My insanity has officially reached it's peak this winter when I signed up for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's Team In Training program where in exchange for raising a minimum of $4300, they will train me and fly me (and my bike) to Lake Tahoe for a century ride. Yep, century, as in 100....miles.

Through this experience thus far, I have learned that there are more accessories for cyclists than an hotel fortune heiress could handle.  Special shoes, socks, hats, glasses, gloves, shorts, shirts, tools, bags to hold said tools, a wonderful substance called "butt butter", pumps, tubes, sweatbands, body part warmers...seriously...you name it and there's probably a version of it for cyclists.

I might have to get a second job to support this new habit of mine. Luckily for me and those that love me, the only thing harmed by my new addiction is my pocketbook.  Otherwise, all of the side effects are beneficial.  I will be saving gas, getting in shape, showing Al Gore that he can talk all he wants; but I'm "greener" than he is, etc. With all of these positive aspects, I can see why there won't be any cyclists anonymous meetings in a church basement anytime soon. Because really, who would really want to 'recover' from this?




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