The Roadie

It’s funny that G.E. was writing about riding too upright to be comfortable just as I was thinking about purchasing a road bike.

(For the record, I don’t think there’s such a thing as too upright. I think there may be such a thing as “too upright for you”, but I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with ‘sit up and beg’ cycling.)

Don’t get excited just yet. I haven’t decided whether to buy the bike. But because the seller is a mensch, she loaned me the bike for the weekend so I could take it out on some longer rides to help me reach a decision.

I never thought I’d want a bike with a top bar or drop handlebars, let alone a road bike. Lately I’ve been obsessed with adding a road-ish bike to my stable, something that would make it possible for me to take longer rides at a faster pace than I could ever do on Elfie. What cinched it was the road trip I took to Whistler this summer.

On my way up the highway, my companion and I drove past about a dozen or more road cyclists who were steadily, slowly, biking their way up a mountain. Quite literally up a mountain. I have always been in awe of what the human body is capable of when pushed to its limits, and a few years ago, I pushed myself to limits I never thought possible. As I watched the cyclists climb, a seed was planted into my brain. “You can do this too, Cecily. You can, if you want it badly enough.”

And I think I do want it badly enough.

Part of me wants a steel road bike, because I like riding steel bikes, and I like designs that are a mixture of classic and modern. I won’t really know until I can compare the two types of bikes and decide which is more suited for my fat butt and the type of riding I want to do.

I feel large and ungainly on a bike this small. What I also feel, however, is a spark of potential.