Poor, Poor Pitiful Me

I recently pulled my bikes out of storage to give them a quick assessment. One bike was definitely in need of a great deal of attention. The second only needed some air in the tires and the brake cable put in place.

After pumping up the tires and failing at the brake cable placement, I decided to take it for a quick spin. I figured as long as the back brakes were operational, I was in okay shape. Besides, I didn't plan on going that far.

Of course, I went farther than planned. Leaving my neighborhood is all downhill, so it's easy to go a mile without breaking a sweat. From there, I followed the bike trail along the Potomac River. It was a gorgeous Sunday, the kind of August Sunday that is rare in the DC area —low humidity, a gentle breeze, and big blue skies. I knew better than to go all the way to Old Town Alexandria, but figured I could head over to the marina, take a break to watch the planes land at DCA, and head back home.

The ride back was a little more taxing. My backside was not happy- it hadn't felt a bike seat in over a year. And then there was the hill back up through my neighborhood. The one that was so easy on the way out was not so easy on the way in. I've ridden up that hill enough times to know that slow and steady is the only way to attack it.

Slow and steady, I went. And then, from out of nowhere, I heard the whirr of an e-bike pass me by. I caught the eye of a walker coming down the sidewalk. She smiled and mouthed a little encouragement.

"He's cheating," I laughed. 

I dug my feet into the pedals and kept pumping my legs —slow and steady — with Linda Ronstadt singing "Poor, Poor Pitiful Me" in my ear. Linda always helps me up that hill.