Sunday, September 16, 2012
I'm starting to look like my bike
Common wisdom suggests that when you spend a lot of time together with someone, you begin to resemble each other.
Does the same hold true with bikes?
Between Neil and the Bianchi, we've spent a lot of time together. And it shows.
My legs have taken on the rigid, sleek lines of aerodynamically-engineered carbon. My arms meld into my TT bars like they've been fused. Every fiber of muscle is in tune with my gear selection, as if I'm now just another one of the components of my gruppo. My heart ticks in time to the cadence of the gear I turn, blood and chain grease circulate through one interconnected system, and become indistinguishable.
Like a sailor confined to port, any time off the bike is disconcerting. Walking is too slow. Ascending stairs seems inefficient. The hours in between rides are purgatory. I hold my breath and start to shake until the next time I can mount up.
And then, it's as if I've crawled back into my true skin. I clip in, find my gear, breathe deep. I open it up.
I am redeemed.