A few years ago I bought a Schwin from the Schwin Store. Because I'm tall, I don't fit quite right on the bikes I've bought from Target. Of course I figured that if I had the right bike, I'd ride it more. Well, no surprise to my gentle readers, I'm not the next triathlete. But, I wanted something different to do, and Jonathan has been gearing up for some serious rides (pun intended). So I strapped on my helmet and off I went. For those of you who don't know my neighborhood, the village next to me is called Barrington Hills. Hills is the operative word. Many a weekend morning I have had to maneuver around flocks of riders enjoying the challenge of the rolling hills and stately mc mansions. I mentally pictured the hills as smooth and easy. I suppose they are to some.
My initial plan was to take the road through my subdivision and the one behind mine to avoid the heavier traficked roads and head to the hills. As I made a right-turn onto the anticipated road, I saw my first hill. I shifted my gears into low, or is it high - the plus-signs and minus-signs on my handlebars which indicate what direction I'm shifting still confuse me, I set my helmet for maximum aerodynamic impact and pedaled like the Wicked Witch of the West in a tornado. Then I slowly came to a stop. My legs felt like jelly, and I was defeated.
I walked my bike to the top of the hill and enjoyed the reward of a swift coast towards a local park with a less challenging bike path.
Here's what I know: biking isn't awful, I can still get a good ride in without trying to bike with the big guys, and I have a goal to conquer that hill by the end of the summer.
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