My poor bum hurts. It’s bruised and I can’t sit or walk or stretch my legs. I need one of those little old lady donut pillows or at least an ice pack.
Last Saturday, I got my first grown-up bike. Yesterday, we had near-80 degree weather, so Hal and I went on a 20 mile bike ride. Beautiful--ducks playing in water, trees in bud, you get the picture. At about mile 10, I started having issues with the seat. Specifically, my seat didn’t want to touch the bike seat any more. It’s really, really hard to ride a bike if you don’t want to sit down. I tried side-saddle, but that isn’t so effective when one has to peddle. I tried alternating cheeks, which worked well until they were both sore. I tried standing up and peddling, but not having been graced with thighs like Rambo, I soon had to sit down again. At about mile 18, I had to get off and walk. The rest of the ride, I spent time walking, riding and complaining to Hal. No use being in pain if everyone around me isn’t also in pain. I'm so Lance Armstrong.
When I was a teenager, a group of friends and I had a brilliant idea (Buttercup, you know who you are.) We decided to slide down a gentle waterfall. Well, at least, the slope was gentle. The rocks under the water? Not so gentle. Apparently, it takes eons longer than that waterfall had been in existence in order to smooth the sharp spear-like points of the rocks. The part that amazes me, looking back, is not the stupidity of the going down the first time. Nope. It’s the stupidity of the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th times. I mean, it’s not like the rocks only got sharp on the last run.
Having learned from my youth, I’m wondering what the solution is to my sore bottom. I hear padded shorts help a bit. Really, I’m thinking I need a Lazy Boy, something with a cup holder and remote built in. And if it comes with a massage option, all the better.