Cycling has many rights of passage. The first time you shave your legs. The first time you can’t get your foot out of your pedals and you fall over. The first time you put on spandex and how you feel like everyone is looking at your a$$. During these winter months I am slowly finding myself thinking about the trainer. I don’t want to think about it, but I do because unless it’s nice enough, it is sometimes the best alternative. Which brings me to a milestone of a different kind.
So when I got serious about riding, I was fat. If you’ve been following my writings, you know this. But when I started I was fat enough to be embarrassed to go out into public in spandex. No one wants to see a grown man in spandex, particularly a fat one. So I spent time on the trainer to get myself to a point I could live with. My dad had one of these growing up. The portable indoor trainer. I have since learned that it like some kind of portable medieval torture devise. It plays one roll and one roll only, it’s there for you to spin on. Nothing more.
So upon picking up my first trainer, I set it up in the living room. My wife is looking at me funny because she is unsure what this is or what it does. The cycling thing was new to her at the time. I set it up and get my shoes on, and mount the bike. I click in and begin spinning. My now 3 year old daughter was not even 1 at the time. It was loud. My poor wife couldn’t hear the TV, the baby was sleeping, and I was just spinning away. My wife got up and asked me to stop. I said ok, but I wanted to try something first.
In my mind, this worked. In my mind, I stand up and try pedaling out of the saddle. Anyone who has spent any time on the saddle knows that standing up on a stationary trainer or rollers is the most unnatural and stiff thing you can do. I was new at this. So I stood up. Let’s break down the physics here. The legs of a trainer are set up to keep the rear wheel grounded. If you shift your weight too much, you can feel movement. Your average max weight for wheels, pedals, saddles, tire pressure, etc. max out at about 200-210 pounds. At the time I was rolling in at a solid 240. I digress. I stand up and shift my weight ever so slightly and the combination the afore mentioned physics and my feet being attached to the pedals left me in mid-air flailing like a new bird learning to fly, flapping my arms and all. When I used to snowboard, you you go big on a jump, but you’re out of control, you do what we called ‘roll down the windows.’ I did the equivalent of that. I fell. I fell on my trainer.
After what seems like an eternity of falling, I can hear my wife laughing. Despite the fact that falling in general is a funny event that even your average considerate person will laugh at, a fat man falling is irresistible. Like many of the cycling milestones, you get embarrassed, you get over it, you learn. I invented a new milestone. Never really got over that….or lived it down.
So the lesson? Don’t stand on your trainer when you’re fat…or get one of those sweet Kenetic Rock and Roll trainers.
DC
