Wheels, Workouts, and Wimbledon

I normally don't do all three triathlon sports in one day, but since I still didn't have my car back on Saturday morning, I decided to ride my bike out to Waterton for my running and swimming workouts. I coated myself in sunscreen and headed out to the canyon.

It was an excellent morning. But the problem is that my morning's exercise was pretty uneventful, so I have no blogging fodder. I mean, usually I have injuries, wildlife, or encounters with others to talk about...but this time, I just did my walk/run jogging (9 miles total), and then jumped back on my bike for a dull and boring ride over to the Chatfield gravel pond.

My buddy Keith met me there, and we cranked pretty hard for a couple of laps of the pond. The highlight of the swim was my navigation on the way back during the first lap -- I steered us right through the gap in the sandbar, leading us to a much faster time than we'd had on the way out when we had to hobble across the rocky bottom.

Whoo hoo. How exciting is that? (Yawn.) Well, it may not make for good storytelling, but it was a good workout, and my arms were pretty rubbery by the time we were done. I hopped back on the bike and headed homeward.

Then came the drama, the tension, and the hair-raising adventure! As I rode up the hill from the park entrance kiosk to Wadsworth, I thought I detected some sponginess in my front tire. Oh no! Not a flat! Whatever shall I do?

A sudden deflation can be disastrous on a bicycle...but doesn't really present much of a threat when you're going up a steep hill at about 4 mph. I made it to the traffic light, dismounted and examined the tire. Yup, it's flat all right.

Here's the reason you come to this web page, right? For access into the thought process of a competitive person as he faces the daunting challenges of his workouts -- that's it, isn't it? Well, here's your reward, loyal reader: my innermost thoughts as I dealt with this tragic setback. My first thought was, "Crud. I just got a new tube. That totally stinks."

My second thought was "OK, I can deal with this. I have a spare tube with me, and all the necessary repair tools in the little kit that hangs below my seat. I can get this thing changed out in 10 minutes or so."

My third thought was "The last three times I've changed a tube, I've managed to poke holes in the replacement. If I were stranded out in the desert, I'd certainly attempt it...but I'm on Wadsworth Blvd, and about half the cars that drive by here have bikes in 'em. Surely I could hitch a ride with a sympathetic fellow cyclist!"

"On the other hand, this tire isn't totally flat. And I only have to ride another 3 or 4 miles to get to where my car is being repaired. I could pump it up with one of my CO2 cartridges; perhaps if the leak is slow enough, and my riding is fast enough, I can get to Goodyear before I'm back on the rim. Hmm."

Upside: It takes about 2 seconds for me to get re-inflated and back on the road. Downside: if it goes flat again before I arrive, I'll have to walk the rest of the way. Hey, no problem; I've got my running shoes, and it'll be a couple of miles at the very most. I decided to go with the "Pump it and pray" option.

The CO2 cannister is a compact and effective device. Not only does it inflate the tire in about a second, but it leaves a groovy little ring of frost around the valve stem. Seeing that reminded me of Marty McFly's chilled DeLorean, and it made me smile. Of course, it's only a matter of time before the eco-nuts get these cartridges banned for making Captain Planet cry, but in the meantime, they are handy little gizmos, that's for sure.

I made it to Goodyear with plenty of air to spare. My car wasn't quite finished so I carried my bike into the store lobby and sat down with a 6-month-old Reader's Digest while the other patrons wondered why a tire store smelled like sweat and pond water.

But I got my car back! It only took about the equivalent of 2 months' wages, but I could now stop using leg power to get around and once again consume petroleum, as God intended.

I spent the rest of the day watching TV. I saw some excellent tennis, which inspired me to coerce Tanner into getting up early on Sunday so he could be victimized by my crashing serves and intimidating quickness at charging the net. (Actually, I did whip him pretty badly this time. He blamed it on the fact that teenagers aren't functional at 7:30 in the morning, but I think it was more likely due to my powerful muscles and catlike reflexes. Though come to think of it, he did seem to have his eyes closed a good portion of the time...)

Despite the thrashing, Tanner did vow to put me in my place next time. And it's always good to know that he's willing to agree to a "next time", so I was pleased. It may be a while, though, since I'm planning to go visit my dad over the weekend. One of these days, I'll tell you some stories of the epic tennis matches I used to play against my father. But until then, stay active, and have a great day!