The Bike Shop's Hallowed Halls

Once you decide to buy a bike, sooner or later you are going to have to go into the bike shop. Now, for those who are mechanically inclined this is less of a big deal- but for those of us newbies who are decidedly NOT, the bike shop with all its sharp edges and sleek tubes and twisted sheets of metal and steel and titanium and foreign sounding names of tools and parts and guys and girls covered in grease - well, it can be somewhat intimidating.


Ironically, I grew up going to bike shops with my dad - which is probably why I was a bit nervous about going to one once I decided to buy a bike. I had seen the inside of many a bike shop and knew what was in there and I knew that it was waaaaaaaaaaay outside my comfort zone.

Cycling is my dad's passion. He is an Old School Roadie. He's been riding over 30 years and put over 7,000 miles on the bike last year. At 60 years old, he kicks off the summer riding season with The Assault on Mt Mitchell --11,000 plus feet of climbing for about 100 miles and finishes the season with DALMAC - a ride across parts of Michigan for five days.


I don't know if he has ever tasted a gel and I'm pretty sure he's never worn toe warmers. While growing up I recall Snickers candy bars and crackers as his fuel of choice - if anything at all.


In the wintertime, his extra layers aren't the latest in technology for breathability and warmth - all he needs is a section of the Sunday New York Times tucked inside his jersey. And what if it is below 32 degrees you ask? Why, he just layers two sections across his chest!


Occasionally he might pull out the tights, but then the temperature would have to be close to zero. "It was a little nippy today," he'll say when he gets back from his 65 mile ride. When I was very young, I would wonder why my dad's water bottles on his bike never seemed to empty - he would start the ride with water at one level and then he would return and the water would be at the same level. Did he fill it up along the way? I'd take a drink and spit out the warm, stale water trying to comprehend how he didn't get thirsty on the ride!

Needless to say, he loves everything about bikes (including the suffering that goes along with being a Roadie) and if he can't be on the bike, well, he'd like to be at the bike shop. So,while I was growing up, on the weekends, to give my mom a break every once in a while, my dad would take my brothers and me to the bike shop for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a half hour.

I hated the bike shop. The bike shop was so BORING! I don't know what my dad did there - talked to the guys about tubes? Looked at wheels? Touched the bikes? Yearned for one of those new aluminum frame Cannondales (which he eventually bought without first telling my mother)? The bike shop smelled like a mixture of rubber and oil, it always seemed dimly lit, and there were only a few kids' bikes in there - and I already had a bike and we couldn't ride them there anyways! I had nothing to do except wander around looking at the weird metal contraptions - trying hard to be interested but just royally bored out of my mind! The guys who worked there looked scary too - they were always holding some awkward-looking object and their clothes and hands were always dirty with grease.


I am told there was one time when my dad was engrossed in a conversation with the Bike Shop Guys (about tubes?) and I was excitedly jumping around at his feet trying to get his attention - but apparently he was so captivated by the conversation (Was it about handlebar tape? Derailleurs? Did bikes have derailleurs back in the 70s? I'm kidding!) - he ignored the pitter patter and went on with his conversation. Well, apparently I had a good reason for getting his attention, I needed to go to the bathroom! So I did! Right there in the the center of the bike shop floor.

Oh - and I was 12.

I am just kidding! I was little! I don't even remember this - I was probably 7. No, I am just kidding - I was 2 or 3! or 4 or 5....

My dad's trip to the bike shop was cut short and cost him no end of embarrassment. I don't think he was embarrassed because I wet my pants - if my lack of bladder control had happened at - say - the mall I am sure it would not be mentioned 30 plus years later, but because it happened at the Bike Shop in front of the Bike Shop Guys - well, I'll never live it down.

Needless to say, I don't have the fondest memories of bike shops and wasn't excited to visit one as an adult. However, IronShane and Tri-Dogmom accompanied us to several stores and I found that it wasn't as bad as I had anticipated.

Number 1 (no pun intended), all had a restroom so I had no anxiety about where to use the bathroom. Ha ha - ok that's enough of that joke.

Number 2, it helped to have two knowledgeable people along to help navigate this new world. However, after the initial Sunday visit to four or five different shops, Dave and I did venture out on our own.

Number 3, perhaps because of Lance and triathlon becoming more common, the cycling industry has grown and most of the people who work in the shops want to make a sale and are interested in helping you find the right bike. We did run into a few bike snobs during our quest to find the right bike (we didn't buy our bikes from them!), but all in all, most of our experiences at the bike shops were good. The workers were friendly, knowledgeable, helpful and patient as they tried to explain to us Newbies some of the basics about buying a bike that would be right for us.


Now I can't say I love going to the Bike Shop - I still feel out of my element when I go into one, but it doesn't scare me as much as it once did. The more comfortable I get with my bike, the more comfortable I get in the bike shop. I even hung out at the bike shop the other day for almost an hour while the guys did some work on my bike. My father, the Old School Roadie, thinks there's hope for me yet!

Bike Shorts: The Horror...The Horror

Well, it has been a long time between posts but with the Tour de France (compulsively watched the same stage a minimum of 3 times a day), my new found obsession with professional cycling (religiously visit velonews.com and cyclingnews.com), the release of the final Harry Potter book and recovering from bike rides in the 110 degree heat (not to mention the time spent at the Regular Job) - a Perfect Storm was brewing and something had to give - so blogging took a temporary back seat - but the time has come to continue on the emotional journey of becoming a cyclist.

So, what was the biggest mental road block to cycling bliss?

Was it the mechanical/technical aspect?

No, though it did play a part.

Large vehicles knocking me over?



No, though that thought crossed my mind several times.

How to work those damn clipless pedals?



Nope.

Financial commitment?




No, I can suck that up too.

No, it was....The Outfit. Specifically, having to wear........ Spandex.



Though I have been active and athletic for most of my life (basketball from grade school through high school) - with the exception of my freshman year of college (Freshman 25)- and then getting back on track (walking, aerobics, hiking, some mountain biking) and on to grad school where I discovered running - I am not genetically blessed with a body type that is typically thought of as "athletic". My ever so sensitive new husband has even commented in disbelief, "You'd think you'd be more cut with all the working out that you do." He then starts talking about how he needs to work out more to reduce his own "man boobs" so I don't take offense.

Then again, a few weeks ago after a 50 mile ride as I was peeling the sweaty shorts off my body, he was looking at me in a quizzical rather than an amorous manner and then curiously commented (quite spontaneously - almost as if it was against his own volition):

"I don't understand how your butt can be so jiggly after all that running and biking that we do?"*

I shot him a dirty look and rolled my eyes, and threw the sweaty bike shorts at his face - but as I walked out of the room in disgust I did have to admit - it's not like this was a revolutionary thought he was having...

*(Note: I am the only member of "we" that does any running of significance!)

I'm fit and have an average build but my heritage is Eastern European - farming folk - I'm sure I have ancestors that at some point gave birth in the fields and then continued on with the potato crop. And while I do try to eat healthy - I am not a nut about it - I certainly appreciate a good steak, sizzling bacon, a nice cold margarita (or, hell, tequila straight up) and the occasionally fries and chips after a good long run (and Dave's not the only one who enjoys a Saturday afternoon lunch of chicken wings).



So, genetics plus fair to middlin' impulse control aren't working for the friendliest of spandex images, but once I made the decision to buy a bike I knew that I was going to have to face the music and put on bike shorts.

So luckily I know Tri-Dogmom. She had already done the ground work in finding the perfect short that worked for her so she invited me over to try on some of her old pairs. And within a couple of changes, I decided that the the Pearl Izumi Sugar Short worked the best for me.

I was pretty much in shock that they felt good and I didn't look too bad. I mean, yeah, put me up next to Hedi Klum (and yeah, she's had 3 kids) and it would be pretty horrifying - but I was actually comfortable!

Now, for Dave, when he made the decision to get a bike, he told me that he already had bike shorts from "back in the day" (i.e, mid-90s) - when he used to rollerblade through the streets of Tempe, AZ as a single guy living the life. I had to break it to him that I had secretly given the jade green and black spandex atrocities to Goodwill several years ago, as I was greatly disturbed that I was living with a man who at one point wore jade green and black spandex shorts (with a tank top - which I think we still have) - in public, on purpose, and thought he looked gooooooood. (We've both agreed multiple times that if we had met in 1996 rather than 2002 - we wouldn't be together today- it's soooooo all about the timing). Besides they were a small - and, ahem, he is no longer a small in the bike shorts department.

I managed to appease him by reminding him that I did not give away his two pairs of camouflage pants (waist 27-31 inches - one with drawstrings around the ankles and one without) and his form fitting black wool sweater with polyester shoulder and elbow patches -





(apparently good for sniper missions).




Additionally, he still had his penny loafers (complete with 1948 & 1952 pennies intact) and several Bill Cosby-like sweaters from the 80s and 90s -




I am extremely grateful that there are only 1 or 2 days a year that you can wear a sweater in Phoenix.


So he grudgingly agreed to purchase a new pair.

Of course when we went to the Performance store to try on bike shorts he was immediately attracted to the Neon Blue pair. Not that there is anything wrong with Neon Blue bike shorts - but maybe let's get in shape first and then break out the Neon in celebration???

Dave's a very independent guy so I don't comment on what he wears (except if there is a stain or things are horribly mismatched) - so I was just holding my breath while he tried them on and proactively began coming up with ways to "accidentally" misplace them. Luckily he found some black ones by Performance that fit him much better and that he was pretty comfortable wearing...so, phew, all my proactive strategizing was for naught - but better to be safe than sorry.

The really cool thing about the bike short thing - is that once you get over the mental hump of having to put spandex on - it becomes a non-issue. There are so many different types of shorts you'll find something that fits you. And - the really, really, really cool thing is that you'll feel so good riding your bike - you don't even care what you look like!! The day you go on bike rides you will be excited to pull out your bike shorts - it is like you are part of a secret club and the bike shorts are just part of the uniform that unlocks the door to pure unadulterated bliss!

Then again, every Sunday morning at 5:15 am as Dave sits in his underwear with bike shorts in hand he proclaims that today is the day he will wear his underwear, rather than the shorts, on the ride - as, visually, he says, there's not much difference between the two. He hasn't actually done this yet, but I apologize in advance if you are ever in the Phoenix area and see this sight - like I said, I don't comment on his clothes.