…but it was a close run thing…headwind all the way…how is that even possible?? Also my bum is in agony.
Having farewelled the girls on their flight back to uni early this morning, I contemplated my new found freedom, and decided to go back to bed. Eventually, however, I decided I’d better do something a bit more active, especially as my husband was in the middle of a cleaning frenzy and might ask me to help if I stuck around. So I decided to go for a bike ride, to keep my bike challenge stats up. Also, I wanted to give my flash new mail order ebike another try out.
100 metres: turned right out of our cul de sac onto the middle of the 16th steepest street in Wellington, and it’s a breeze on my new bike. I’m only on a low level of assist, and I’m flying up in third gear.
200 metres: battery is down to 3 bars out of five, is that bad?
1 km: Ooh look, I’m passing my favourite jewellery shop, might as well pop in and buy that necklace I’ve had my eye on. Still working my way through that insurance payout, building up a replacement jewellery collection. The jeweller is very kind, and says my tragedy can be turned into a positive thing by taking the opportunity to buy stuff I’ve always really wanted. Every cloud has a silver lining, in fact, although perhaps 18 carat gold in this case. I seem to be making her happy, anyway.
5 km: a tiny blue car passes me so closely as I near Island Bay that I exclaim “really??” There’s an L plate on the back and it’s being driven by someone with a perky blonde ponytail, but I glimpse an older man in the passenger seat. Was that his doing? “But what about the bicycle, dad?” “Don’t worry Becky, you’re never as close as you think you are, and actually these cyclists are tougher than they look and deserve everything they get, considering how bad they are at sharing the road.”
10 km: cycling around the bays now, and there’s a car close behind me that really wants to pass but sadly it’s a terrible spot here, narrow and windy with poor visibility ahead. He’s just going to have to wait.
50 metres further on: the car overtakes with an ostentatious revving of the engine, only to get stuck behind a queue of cars 100 metres further on. It is the scenic route, after all.
15 km: my bum is starting to get sore. I have been cursed with a congenitally tiny and bony bottom, which is not only hideously unfashionable but also very uncomfortable on long bike rides. I’ve got a comfy padded seat and padded bike shorts, but it’s not helping.
20 km: there’s a cruise ship in town, and it’s one of those glorious sunny days that Wellington seems to have far too few of. The waterfront is packed with people. The vibe is terrific but it’s not conducive to rapid progress. I take the back route. Sometimes you need the road less travelled.
24.1 km: a last glide up the hill and home. Too easy. The final push brought me down to 1 bar of battery, so a beautifully gauged ride. Hubby is still cleaning so I’ll just eat a fru ju in the garden to cool down, and contemplate the fact I learnt the other day that apparently 20% of people don’t have an internal monologue. Incomprehensible. Anyway, here’s my Strava map just to prove it happened.
I’m a staunch defender of ebikes, but to be honest, this bike is just too powerful on those hills. I feel a bit of a fraud. Let’s see how those muscles feel tomorrow. The sore bum is definitely real, though.