The Exciting Adventures of a Novice Cyclist

A while ago, I started a thread about cycling to work, asking my fellow dopers for advice and tips. Now that I’ve found a trusty steed and made the move to two wheels, things are certainly getting interesting…

My fist big shock was finding out just how out of shape I really was. I knew that I was carrying around a few extra pounds (that was my reason for buying the darn thing in the first place), but I had no idea that my aerobic fitness had gotten so bad. On my very first ride out, I got barely five minutes from the house before having to turn around and head back. It was either that or keel over from an aneurysm. Granted that we have some slight inclines around here, but that was truly embarrassing.

But it wasn’t only my pride that was injured - my ass was also being ground into hamburger. Now I know that the wonders of modern technology have given us gel-filled saddles and all sorts of wonderfully comfortable ways of pampering one’s posterior, but I hadn’t actually bought one. Nope, I was stuck with a stock sadddle, straight out of the factory, and after a half-hour ride, my ass felt thoroughly tenderised.

In an effort to uh…rectify the problem, I gamely walked into a bike shop and asked the proprietor what they had in the way of suitably crotch-protecting garments. I walked out twenty minutes later with something that looked and felt decidedly kinky. I don’t know about any of you experienced cyclists out there, but having padding around my pink bits is going to take some getting used to. Anyway, black spandex does NOT look good on me, so the offending article was covered up by another pair of more decent looking baggy shorts. I still look like a dork though, and the helmet doesn’t help either.

I haven’t had any problems with cars so far - everyone seems to be sensible enough to give me a wide berth when they see me wobbling down the road. Nevertheless I can’t help but notice that some drivers steer wider than others, and it always seems to be the expensive cars that get the closest. Seriously, it’s always the Jaguars and Land Rovers that force me to hug the kerb in mortal fear, while the cheap and cheerful rust buckets give me plenty of room as they rattle and chug their way past.
So why do I do it? I’ve asked that myself that same question over the past couple of weeks, mostly when I’m straining and wheezing like a man in his last death-throes to get up a hill. However, it’s in the quiet moments and the fresh air that I find my answer. I’m quite lucky in that I live in a rather green and pleasant corner of England, so when I get home, get changed and jump on the bike, I’m rewarded with plenty of oxygen, great views, and plenty of time for stress-free contemplation of life’s many mysteries.

I’m starting to find a measure of satisfaction in getting up that hill - and the one beyond it. I’ve glimpsed moments of zen-like tranquility in the rhythm of heart and lung. I’ve found moments of peace when the road was my own, when the only sounds were the hum of my wheels and the early evening birdsong. I once pedalled right past a fox who peered warily at me from the cover of a hedge, and I was so pleased that I actually waved at him.

So yes, I think that it’s all worth it so far - hamburgerized ass notwithstanding. I get a very smug and self-satisfied feeling when I realise I’m looking after my heart, and I look forward to getting fitter and being able to go further and faster. But I’m to be honest, I’m also looking forward to getting buff and attracting the ladies. Let’s just hope I don’t damage anything essential before then…

Updates to follow, so stay tuned for the further exciting adventures of a Novice Cyclist.

Glad all is going well with the bike, I’ve been longing to get back into cycling for awhile now. The rodas aren’t as bicycle friendly here as they were when I was living in California though.

Are you sure that was a fox you saw? It could have been a Killer Squirrel in disguise.

Congratulations, Bibliovore! I get a similar zen-like feeling when I run. Great, ain’t it?

Keep them pink parts protected, my friend. They’re important.

Make sure your seat is adjusted properly.

When I got my bike, I went round and round with the wrenches at a shop along a trail I ride, because my seat was shifted too far back horizontally, and I was sitting on my nuts. They swore up and down that it was properly positioned for someone my height. They failed to take into account that I am long (and unfortunately, wide) torsoed, and short legged.

I finally did the job myself. Moved the seat forward, much to the relief of the boys, and never patronized that shop again.

I cycle to work and back every day. It’s not very far, but I too was astonished at how lame I was first time I did it too. I had to push my bike half the way. Now I do it all in one go. I still get knackered, but it’s nice knowing I’ve improved. You will too.

Plus, there’s hardly a greener form of transport.

Are you in the Yorkshire area, by chance? Your journey sounds like a hovis ad :wink:

Bibliovore, that was inspiring!

I live in a rather un-green corner of New York City but even here I experience those good moments you describe.

Don’t worry too much about your hamburger-ass. It’ll toughen up. And like vunderbob said - just make sure your seat’s adjusted properly, keep riding, and your butt will be fine. Only when you start doing those 100k or so rides will it become an issue again.

Well said - I’m glad you enjoy it. Those nice moments without cars are excellent… And pretty soon, you won’t even notice the whole ass on the small seat thing!

Congrats Biblio, just a few words.

Your going to look like a dink. There’s no way around it. truth be told though, while those off their feet may scoff occasionally, it is actually rare that they do. Even most lean-and-mean bicyclists you see will think to themselves that you’re a person taking the first step. The padded shorts are crucial. I can’t imagine riding without them, and I’ve been riding my bicycle as my sole means of transport (besides feet) for several years. Don’t sweat how you look.

You noticed that, huh?

There’s a whole list of passing tendencies I’ve observed. I’ve given them names.

Looking forward to it. Jst remember that if you keep at it, you will get better. There’s really no peak either, I found after a few years of assuming I was at the top of my game that if I made a cadance change, riding became a whole lot easier.

Part 2 - The Novice Cyclist goes exploring

I had a pretty stressful day at work yesterday, so I couldn’t wait to get home, get changed, and start pedalling. I needed to expend some energy, and I fully intended to go for a marathon session of at least an hour to and hour and a half (definitely a marathon as far as I’m concerened). However it didn’t quite work out that way.

I’ve noticed that being on a bike makes you more prone to exploration and diversion. When you’re in a car, you tend to stick to the same routes day in and day out - the same route to work and back, the same route to the store, the same tired and well-worn routes everywhere. You’re also restricted in the places you can go, so a bicycle can lead you to some pretty unexpected places.

So as I pedalled up the hill past a restaurant I’d seen every day for years, I noticed that there was a public footpath leading off behind it into some dense-looking woodland. “Why the hell not?” I thought. “It’s not like I have to be anyplace in particular”. I’d never even seen the path before, as I usually zoom past it at sixty miles an hour when I’m late for work. but now the unknown beckoned, so in I went.

After about ten minutes of huffing and puffing along a desrted and muddy track, I reached packed dirt and a wider path that was signposted as a bridleway (note to non-uk dopers - a bridleway is a sort of public path for horses and bikes, no vehicles allowed). After following the bridleway for a couple of minutes, I left the overgrown wooded area , and as I turned a corner, my jaw literally dropped at the scene before me.

Acres and acres of green and rolling fields, dotted with horses and noble stands of trees. On my right was a large blue pond with a beautiful red-brick building at the water’s edge that looked as if it was either a hotel or a private mansion, and swans gently floated across a tiny stream that lead from the pond.

I was speechless - not only was the scene too beautiful for words, but I couldn’t believe that it was literally a five minute bike-ride from my house! I could have kicked myself for never bothering to explore the area before. I’ve lived in my neighborhood for more than fifteen years now, and I’d never even heard of the place.

My curiosity lead me on, following well-maintained paths and passing signs that said “Polo field 1” and “Exercise field”. I wasn’t too sure if I was trespassing on private land or not, so I pedalled warily and rather self-consiously in my neon-yellow jacket. I pedalled past quaint little bridges over the stream, and past stables with room for at least fifty horses. Some of them were in residence, and they poked their soft muzzles out at me and snuffled the air to try and get a scent of this odd intruder. I was mesmerised by the opulence of the grounds, and delighted by the intelligent stares of the horses. In short, I was having a great time.

As I was pedalling past a couple of tractors, a car pulled up alongside and beeped it’s horn at me. “Uh-oh” I thought, “I’m in trouble”. A rather wary-looking guy got out and said “Hello!”

“Hello!” I replied rather sheepishly, “Am I somewhere I shouldn’t be?”

“Oh, yes…”

I explained that I was just an innocent explorer, and not actually casing the place for nefarious ends. He looked rather bemused, and then surprised the hell out of me by offering to take me on a tour as long as I didn’t tell anyone. To be honest, I was a bit flabberghasted at first, but quickly thanked him and said that would be wonderful. After I shook his hand and introduced myself, he introduced himself as “John, Head of Security.”

For the next fifteen minutes or so, John took me on a guided tour of all 129 acres of what turned out to be a polo club. At the end, I was impressed not only by the size of the place, but also by the staggering amounts of money that people spend on Polo and Polo horses. It really was a different world.

So to cut a long story short, John dropped me off where I’d left my bike and told me that there would be a match at the end of the month that was open to the public if I was interested. i thanked him and promised to stick to the public paths in future, and we parted with a grin and a wave.

So dear dopers, while I didn’t exactly get all the exercise I’d planned, I got much more than I bargained for and a very pleasant surprise as well. I fully intend to keep exploring the neighvorhood, but will keep an eye open for guard dogs in the future…

bike like you’re doing for about a month, then head out and find a Spinning class. While it’s stationary, and there’s no odometer, the act of biking with a group of people, to well picked music (from a cadence standpoint) and having a good cool down and stretch afterwards is fantastic.

If the instructor’s good, you’ll have never worked harder and you WON’T feel it the next day.

The class will also teach you warm-up periods, that your heart rate is important (and for you, how fast that rate should be), how to stretch after your excercise, and it can be a GREAT time.

Polo club? you’re definately not in Yorkshire then.

It sounds like you’re possibly somewhere around the Weald, but I’ll be wrong of course.

You picked a good time to start riding, there hasn’t been much rain for a while, though that has changed over the last week or so.

Now that we have light morings, may I suggest that you pick one very nice sunny weekend, in early summer and go out for a ride at maybe 4 or 5 am.You’ll get to see hares, rabbits, possibly a homeward bound fox of even a badger, and if you stay on the back roads you will have it all to yourself, no other traffic at all to worry about, its almost like finding another country such is the feeling of freedom you get.