I had some dumb stuff to accomplish last weekend and I did accomplish said dumb stuff. But the weather was so beautiful that Sunday night after dinner I said, "My dumb stuff is done. I am going for a walk." I started out walking, then I wondered how it would be to run and it was fine. Well, it was also dark (we eat late; B calls it European but it's really a matter of reaching a point in the evening when we realize no one will be inviting us to dine so we might as well fix something) and in the midst of running like a boss I tripped over something and windmilled my way to the pavement in a spectacular way. I collected the pieces of my incredibly expensive glasses and walked home with the insouciance some people might adopt to hide embarrassment.
The next day I presented my glasses to the crazy expensive glasses place and they 1) fixed them for free and then 2) promised to replace them as soon as new frames came in. Since this was all "free" I said ok, but I don't know what I will do when my prescription changes again. I thought bifocals would solve all my problems; they do not. What they do do, they do well: I can drive and see the instrument panel on the car, which was not previously possible. I now have a sackful of glasses I carry around just in case I need to read something or read something when the sun is out or see far away or drive. Anyway, that glasses problem was solved so I then contacted the bike fitting guy to see if I should postpone my appointment for Tuesday, since I had kind of jammed my left wrist the night before.
His answer made me think it would be fine to keep the original appointment, so the next morning I had every piece of me measured and that was pretty fun. I got to talk about my feet a lot, which I always enjoy, and we ended up discussing my butt. I was not expecting this. I wanted to find a way to rearrange my bike to keep my hands from growing numb. He said that was possible, but how about my butt? Now, I have been riding bikes for a couple of decades and I know perfectly well that after some miles your butt will not feel great. I shared this intelligence with the bike fitting guy and he said I was wrong. He said that the seat on my bike was narrower than the width of my sit bones and thus had never supported my butt, ever. (To measure the width of your sit bones, you sit hard on a cushiony graph, of course.) Then he up and replaced my seat, my stem, and my handlebars, transforming my cheap Craigslist bike into a bike that was still cheap but now had cost me twice as much.
After that I did all the regular stuff you do when you are trying to wrap up fifth/sixth grade with a kid who has not failed to notice that Spring has sprung. It went pretty well, but by the weekend I was very eager to try out this monster of a bike. I figured 80 miles would be a good test, so I rode from Georgesville to Xenia and back on a trail I hadn't tried before. Guess how many indigo buntings I saw? THREE! Also about 400 chipmunks and a lot of other critters. But those indigo buntings are amazing. You know how delightfully blue a bluebird is? These go way beyond delightful. They are shocking, alarming, your jaw will drop and you will say something out loud along the lines of, "Wow, look at how blue you are!" to the indigo bunting.
That happened three times. My fingers never went numb, though, which I really appreciated when I had to put a new tube on at mile 76. And my butt felt great. I'm done talking about my butt now. It was a good week.