Yesterday I caved in and went to a bike store. I couldn’t help myself. Char and I were already shopping in the area and saw the signs pointing to the store. They looked so innocent at first, colorful and inviting. Before I knew it I was knee deep in embrocation and chamois butter shelves, surrounded by the smell of rubber tires and the feel of moisture wicking spandex. The friendly proprietor invited us to their weekly rides and their upcoming indoor trainer sessions for the winter months.
I cried inside a little thinking of my bike, disassembled and packed into a wooden crate somewhere across the Atlantic Ocean.
And the withdrawal symptoms are starting to surface. This is what I get for becoming addicted/obsessed/hooked on cycling while trying to become a well-rounded athlete.
But alas, it will be another 4 months before I can unwrap my carbon fiber steed and unleash the monster upon the romantic countryside. There was only so much stuff I was allowed to pack into the Jeep for the trip to Maryland, and that was limited to what I absolutely had to have for the school here, what Char and I needed to survive, and what the pets needed to be taken care of. Everything else was shipped ahead of us to Italy, where it will hopefully be waiting in one piece once we arrive.
Until then, I will have to make the most of the spin bikes in the neighborhood gym room. Also, I suppose this is the time to focus on other areas of my fitness health, to build a foundation of strength, endurance and flexibility without the distraction of trying to get in enough miles to feel accomplished. There are plenty of beautiful woods around the area and must be a few trails to explore.
So, expect the next few months to be full of other fitness related topics, whining about not being able to bike, and anything else loosely related to my pursuit of terrific triathlon training. Though, Char and I might be making some special trips back to the Twenty 20 bike store to satisfy my itch, just a little bit.