Bee on a bike...

...for about 10 minutes!!!

I acquired a bike some time ago from a friend who was unable to use it anymore. She had cancer and can't tolerate sitting on a bike due to radiotherapy effects. So I bought it off her on a whim. We manhandled it into the back of my car and when I got it home, Hubby was surprised to say the least that I had paid so little for a Giant bike with Shimano brakes (or gears, whichever is impressive). As you can tell, to me a bike is 2 wheels, handlebars and a bell if I'm lucky. I have 30 odd gear settings that I'm never going to use in a month of Sundays. Needless to say, it has sat in the garage, slowly deflating and losing all hope of ever being sat on again! Until today!

Hubby was supposed to be away this weekend, shooting people with bee-bees but his already fragile self confidence was shattered last night when he ventured where they were supposed to be camping, got the wrong side road and ended up being rescued from a muddy ditch by a mate with a Land Rover. He was completely mortified and no amount off cajoling or gentle persuasion, talking, listening or cuddling would persuade him to go back today. He has absolutely crippling social anxiety at times and although he's perfectly able to function on a daily basis, hold down a fairly stressful job and do things that he has to do. When it comes to his leisure time and hobbies, if he doesn't want to do it - he won't. This distresses me because he was so looking forward to the boys' weekend, roughing it on ration packs and seeing who can get the grubbiest and smelliest by Sunday afternoon. Instead he will spend most of the weekend holed up in his man cave, watching sport and playing computer games. I know he will look back and regret not going, and he knows it too but he just can't bring himself to face them so soon. He has a very strong flight response and he's afraid of not his mates, but the addition people there, taking the piss, having a drink and taking even more piss out of him and he will be unable to escape. His instinct last night was to get home as quickly as possible and he told me if the roads weren't so windy, he'd have broken the speed limit just to get back to his safe zone/haven.

I digress...anyway, because he's here when I didn't expect him to be and he's been trying to get out on his bike (and persuade me to do the same) I bit the bullet and suggested maybe we take them out. All plans made, lid retrieved from the wardrobe and off we went to the garage. My tyres were flat. And no pump that fits the valve. BOTTOM!! Change of plan. We decide to go for a walk instead and head towards a bike shop that we have never visited on the off-chance they'll be open (it was a Saturday morning; of course they'll be open. But he's in that over-analysis stage where everything he's planned will be thwarted by something). And then we can continue our walk with or without a pump with the option of Amazon. So that's what we did. 

The bike shop was open (told you so! But I didn't say it) and we purchased an old-fashioned pump for £5.99 and carried on walking. 6000 steps later we were home again and I was itching to get on my bike. So he kindly pumped the tyres up and after adjusting the seat, off we went to the car park at the end of the road. OMG my quads are screaming after only 10 minutes! To be fair, I haven't ridden a bike for probably well over 10-12 years. I was playing with the gears going up and down hill (the car park is on a bit of a slope) and my legs were aching so much! I won't need to do much to call it vigorous because the sweat was pouring off me after just that short episode. We'll maybe go out later this evening when the weather has cooled a bit and there's less people about to watch the fat, middle aged bee on a bike getting hotter, sweatier and redder by the moment!