From the Further Misadventures of a Fat Biker Bitch

[Thanks to Shaker Roramich for the title of this post. Background: I recently got a bike, and am having to re-learn to ride in a whole new way because of a back injury that left me with nerve damage in my left foot.]

It's been very, very hot here lately—the kind of hot that when you open the front door, the heat hits like you a puff of bad breath in your face. So the other day, I awoke early and decided to go for a short ride around 6:30am. I'm still re-learning, so I figured I would shoot for two miles, which wouldn't put me too far away from home if I had any trouble, and would get me home before it got unbearably hot.

It also meant I wouldn't have to carry a bag, since my bike came without a water bottle holder and I've not bought one yet. That did, however, leave me wondering what to do with my keys in pocketless pants, but, luckily, my keychain fob is big and flat, so I just tucked it down the back of my pants, letting the keys hang out, which worked just fine. And off I went.

It was an easy first mile, and I was really starting to feel like a bike-rider again. I felt rather good as I went into the turn at the top of my mile—and then promptly fell off my bike in another hilarious slo-mo tumble into the grass.

My injuries were more pathetic than serious, although I was left with a very impressive bruise:

What was more annoying than my devastating wounds was the fact that I'd fallen into long grass that was still dewy so early in the day. I hadn't really planned or desired to ride my second mile all wet, but such is the life of a Fat Biker Bitch.

My second mile went well, too, although I was a bit tired, a lot thirsty, and now a bit sore from the fall, by the time I got home. I pulled into the driveway and reached 'round for my keys.

No keys.

Well. There was nothing for it. No point in getting angry or upset; I just hopped back on my bike. The fates—with a little help from my own ineptitude—had decided I was going on a four-mile ride instead.

The last two were, blissfully, fall-free.

I'm totes getting a water bottle holder for my dang bike this weekend—and figuring out somewhere better to store my keys.

Foiler warning.


1. Upon seeing the Very Impressive Bruise, Iain exclaimed: "You've totally got to blog that!" LOL.

2. While relaying this story to my friend Mannion yesterday on the phone, he noted that at least this answers the question of whether I have a corporeal body. I told him: "Either that, or I am a brain in a jar who is also a compulsive liar." You be the judge!

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