It's in the shop . . . really

I finally brought my bike to the shop. When I explained the head tube / headset was making a clanking noise, the mechanic grabbed the bars, lifted the front wheel about a foot off the ground, and let go.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Big time.”

Locking the seat tube into a bike stand, he began picking apart my bike. “Come on over here,” he said, inviting me behind the counter. “You’re derailleur hanger is bent. Your brake calipers are loose and aren’t set correctly. Your rear tire is worn down to the threading.” (Apparently, the Hutchinsons that came with the bike don’t do so well with the heat from my trainer.) When he loosened the shift cable and toyed with the shift lever, he added, “You’re right. It’s only shifting eight times. The ball-end of the cable that broke is probably stuck in there.”

That was last Saturday and they’re still working on it. I agreed to the $60 tune-up while we were at it, but the good news is that they were able to fix the shift lever without replacing it.

And since I decided to take a few days off from riding beginning last Monday, I haven’t ridden since September 9th. Today’s the 20th. Man, do I feel all out of sorts or what? Regardless, if I can get the bike back by Saturday (I can only imagine what the financial damage is going to be), I’ll hit the road for the first time in almost two weeks. Thinking about it, the idea of riding again after two weeks off the bike is almost scary. I get the feeling I’ve lost every ounce of fitness I’ve gained over the past year and I’m going to cough up a long on the first serious climb. Rationally, I know that won’t happen, but it’s surprising what the imagination will come up with knowing a particular routine has been broken as long as I’ve broken it this past week-and-a-half.

That's it. That's all I've got right now.