I thought I was gonna go out for a nice bike ride by the beach today. And I was partially correct. I rode from my apartment in Venice to Will Rogers State Park, which is about 10 miles.
I went and swam in the ocean for the first time (it’s previously been way too cold for me to to much more than wade in a little). It was nice, and I was feeling really good.
Which, as you all know by now, is a clear sign of impending doom.
I had bought a new portable hand pump for my bike, since it’s kind of crappy and the rear tire tends to deflate under the weight of my fat ass.
I had used it on my way there, and it kind of stuck on the valve. I managed to get it off, but apparently not without tearing a fairly substantial hole in the tire.
The tire held together until I decided to stop, so I didn’t realize until it was time for me to head back that I was completely fucked. It was completely deflated, and wouldn’t hold any air.
I was about three or four miles from the nearest bike shop, so I ended up having to walk my bike back to that shop. It took me longer to walk my bike there than it had to bike a long-ass way up the coast.
They fixed my tire, but I was so worn out from walking that by the time I was close to home, I had to will myself to go the last few blocks.
It was definitely fun overally, but I definitely could have done without the flat.