The Bad Touch

About a week ago I bought a 12-speed bike at a pawn shop. With the river run coming back up I need to get back in shape, and I wanted to try a little cross-training this year to see if I could get some better results than I did with just jogging alone. Plus the last few times I went running my knees starting screaming in pain, so I wanted to try to build up my conditioning a little more before I start pounding the pavement again.

It's weird though -- Its literally been years since I've owned a bike. I had one in college for a while, but I leant it out to someone and well, long story short - it got stolen. Before that though, we're talking like 5th or 6th grade, back in the days when your bike was the only possible way to get around.

Anyways, the bike I found turned out to be a pretty nice one -- and after a trip to a local repair shop to get the brakes tuned up I took it out last night for a spin. 2 miles, nothing crazy -- but definitley enough to get the blood pumping. As expected, it was easier on my body than running - in fact once I cooled down I felt really charged, like I could have done a couple more miles easilly without causing myself too much harm.

The only bad thing about it was the seat. If I had ever wondered (and I really hadn't until about a mile or so into things) why cyclists have such tiny asses, I certainly know the truth now. Then again, I think I've finally found the perfect motivation to get in shape quick -- because when I got back home it felt like I'd been locked in a Turkish Prison for a couple of years.

Seriously, while I was riding last night it was like there was this voice in my head screaming "Whoa buddy, what did I ever do to you!?"