…and boy is my body tired. And I forgot to borrow Scott’s padded shorts. So you know what part of me is sore.

We went 22 miles today. This is the route we took: (clicking here will download PDF) — which is 20 miles itself, plus I’m counting the mile down our street to get to the lake, and mile back up again, which, by the way, I did mostly in second gear on the front — for those of you who know what that means, and I am CERTAIN there is a more professional bicyclist way to say it — only dropping down to granny gear for that last 100 feet from the park at the corner to our driveway. Scott stood in front of the house and watched me stop (for a long time) and catch my breath, determined to get enough energy up to pedal that last tiny bit, not walk.

I was VERY nervous at first, getting back on the bike (clearly, it had already been too long, and confidence ground was lost). I found that if I sang a noodle-y nonsense song to myself as I rode, that helped. But then a van came around me very close, and someone else honked, and then I was VERY VERY nervous (minus-1 on my scale of 1-5). I was just about deciding that I was going to need to change my name on this blog when…

Scott made us stop (we were maybe at mile two) and he said, “You’re riding nervous.”

Ah. Yes. True. Very true. Perhaps I need to relax? Sure.

That actually helped. Really. Just to hear him say that — I realized, in the phrase “riding nervous,” it’s nervous that’s the problem. Not riding.

Continuing on the route, confidence built, and fortunately traffic waned, as we rode over bridges and around past water, and airplanes.

I decided one thing very definitely: I HEART BIKE LANES. I also heart that the bike lane on the return side of the lake had not only a stick figure bicyclist on it, but a stick figure bicyclist wearing a helmet — like an upside-side down cereal bowl.

What I can’t figure out is why I don’t also get to wear a mouth guard, knee pads, elbow pads, and wrist guards.

Other nice things about the ride today: Alameda is FLAT FLAT FLAT. Wheeeeee.

Yes, I actually said wheeeeee at least three times.

Also, on the way out to Alameda, I very distinctly thought to myself as we passed the Motel 6 on Embarcadero: “If I need to, I can stop, and Scott can ride home and come back with the truck.” So you can imagine how it felt to pass that same Motel 6 at a jaunty clip on the way back.

And Scott taught me how to not have my hands hurt so much: Suspend my body from my sternum, and hold the handlebars gently, like a loaf of bread.

It’s a good thing I had two years of Pilates under my belt before embarking on this bicycling thing. Because I actually know how to suspend myself from my sternum, how to use my lats to help get the tension out of my shoulders, how to get my transverse abs to fire and give my quads and lower back a break, to check in with the connection between my heels and sitting bones, to use my inner thigh and hamstring muscles when I pedal.

Not that I’m showing off or anything — this is just the trip my brain takes around my body while I’m pedaling, checking in with each muscle group from my palms to my heels and then starting over again.

Main song in my head this time: La la la, lalalala laaa, La la la, lalalala La. (The Banana Splits theme song — and YES, I also sang this out loud — to soothe myself. It’s a nice song for a sunny, crisp, east bay bike riding day. It’s also the song bridesmaid Jenny used to calm me during the prepartions portion of the day of my wedding.)

I was most happy to get home again, though. Mission accomplished and me still in one piece. More confidence building exercises coming soon-ish.

Here I am, all pink and sweaty and pleased to be back and raising the victory fist: