A fat girl and her bike, together again
Well, I’m ready. Got my bike back from the bike shop. Got my bike accessories cleaned up. Washed my bike clothes. Didn’t really have to buy anything. Oh, except I did splurge on a speedometer/odometer so I can track my distance (gotta complete 112 miles by Oct 3!)
I have to say, my two bike shop experiences have been pretty good. I never look forward to going to places frequented by athletes who are 1/3 to 1/2 of my size. But, both times, everyone was generally friendly (of course, money was involved, says the cynic) and there was one employee who was overtly encouraging without being condescending.
When I first bought the bike, I held my head up and walked in and stuck out my chin and said, look, I need a bike that can hold my weight — I’m over 300 pounds. (At the time, I was close to my highest weight — probably around 325#.) On the outside, I acted confident, but inside I just wanted to be done and get out of there. The sales guy fixed me up with a modest Trek mountain bike that was just right. As he was walking me out the door, he said, you know, I used to be over 300#, too. And then he smiled and walked back inside. That really stuck with me.
Last night, I picked up that same bike, cleaned up and repaired, after having collected dust and spiderwebs and rust in my garage. Different bike shop. And while I didn’t have quite the same experience, they were friendly and enthusiastic — not enthusiastic that some fat person was going to exercise, but rather that they had yet another person with whom to share their passion.
Before I got married and moved, I used to live four miles from my office. I rode my bike back and forth several times a week. It was on my list of top accomplishments of all time, because I lived at the bottom of a big hill and there were four major hills on the way to work. At first, I had to walk my bike up all four. But then I started being able to get up one, then another, and eventually all four. Going back home was always a breeze, being downhill most of the way.
I think the only negative memories from that time are the teenage boys and young men in their twenties who slowed down their cars and hung out their windows yelling what a fat cow I was and mooing. Ugh. Well, to heck with them. I am far too excited about my racy red bike and the prospect of making this first 112 mile goal to let anything, even an old ugly memory, stop me.
And, for days I can’t ride outside, plan B awaits me this afternoon — my exercise bike, covered in dust and cobwebs, soon to be cleaned up and moved to my family room.
Re: Plan B — I’ve been reading a good book that talks about choice architecture and setting up your environment to make “doing the right thing” easy. Post on that when I’m done with the book.
Oh, and when I woke up at 2am and couldn’t sleep, I got my little book light out and read PastaQueen’s book until 5am. That was an intense read. More on that later, too.
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Love your blog!
I think youve accidentally convinced me to twitter!
Great! I have to say, I have really come to appreciate twitter! Let me know if you do — I’ll follow you!
Thanks, adventure grrl! I think the cashier bought it, btw.