Biking wtih Baby, Part 2

I learned a very valuable lesson during this week's bike ride with my baby girl: be prepared because you just don't know when you'll have a mechanical mishap.

Never leave home without:

1. A multi-tool (the contraption in blue)

2. Formula or some type of baby food

(The wine is to help calm nerves later in the evening)

Monday afternoon, Elizabeth and I were out enjoying a bike ride (well, she was enjoying the bike ride, I was trying to soldier through hill climbs and intervals).

I was so glad to be out, but aggravated with my chain the entire ride. It kept skipping, and it would fall off the chain ring when I tried to put it into granny gear as a I climbed a hill. At my current fitness, I need granny gear to climb hills! I was just going to have to make due with the middle chain ring.

Well, an hour and a half into our ride, I'm chugging up a hill, clicking through my gears to find some relief from the pain and lactic acid building up in my quads. I shifted into the lowest gear I could find. The chain sounded like a roller coaster car climbing up the track. CLUNKY CLUNKY CLICKITY CLACK. And then I heard this dreaded noise: THUNK! Chain suck.

My pedals stopped moving and I quickly clipped out so that I didn't fall over. It must have looked cartoon comical, and I'm glad there wasn't anyone around that saw me. That I know of.

I attempted to move my pedals, thinking that maybe I just needed to help the bike into the next gear. No luck. The pedals would not move. I looked down at my back wheel and discovered that one of the chain links was stuck between my rear cassette and a spoke. *sigh* How the hell did that happen?!

Being that we were on a hill and I couldn't set the bike down to fix the problem without the trailer rolling backwards, I decided to try to walk the bike up the hill to level ground. But my back wheel was stuck and the bike wouldn't roll on it's own. So I had to lift the bike up and carry it cyclocross style up the hill so that I didn't drag my tire across the pavement and the trailer would roll - all while my pedal banged into the back of my calf with each stride. (I now have lovely bruises from the pedal hitting my calf).

Once I was at the top of the hill, I unhitched the trailer and placed it under the shade of the tree. Then I flipped my bike upside to down to......do what? I didn't really know what I was going to do. I'm not a mechanic and I have no bike-fixin' skills. But I thought I could yank the chain out from where it was stuck.

Pull! Pull! Pull! Nothing. PULL! PULL! YANK! Still nothing. Dammit. I was starting to panic. PUUULLLLL!

After five minutes of this, my mind started to flurry with anxiety. Who was I going to call to get me out of this mess? How was I going to get the baby and me home? What if she wakes up and senses my panic and starts crying hysterically?! And then....Crap. I don't even have a bottle. I had stuffed the diaper bag in the compartment of the Chariot, but I didn't pack a bottle.  *sigh*

I reached around to the back pocket of my jersey. Double crap: I forgot to grab the multi tool. It's not like I really know how to use it except to tighten/loosen screws. But it would have come in handy to help un-jam the chain.

So I did what any panicky woman would do. I called my husband. And I was pissed at myself because I didn't know how to fix the problem all by myself like a big girl.

He suggested that I loosen the quick release to take off the tire. But that didn't help much because the chain link was really jammed between the rear cassette and the spoke. More panic and anger set in. I started to weep "it won't work," I said between sniffels. "it's really stuck."

I took a deep breath. "Let me try to work with it some more." I whined.

"I'm coming to get you." he said.

As much as I was relieved, I was that more pissed at myself for feeling helpless.

I took a sip of water and another deep breath.

A woman ventured out of the house that I was parked in front of. She appeared to be in her mid-30s and I assumed (from the minivan in the driveway and the playhouse in the backyard and the fact that she was home in the middle of the day during a work week) that she was a stay at home mom. "Are you OK? Do you need help?" she asked. I was glad I was wearing sunglasses so that she couldn't see my tears. I explained what happened.

"Can you hold my bike while I yank this chain?" I asked pointing at the rear wheel. "It's stuck between the spoke and the rear cassette. Here I am, an avid cyclist, and I don't know much about bike maintenance."

She held my bike while I gave the chain a couple more yanks. Finally it broke free. "Whew! That's a relief!" I said to her.

I put the back wheel on the bike, wrapping the chain around the chain ring and tightening the skewer. I flipped my bike back over, lifted the back wheel off the pavement and worked the chain through the gears. "O.K. I think it's fixed." I said.

"You look like you know how to fix your bike to me." She said with a smile. I wanted to hug her.

I thanked her, reattached Elizabeth's bike trailer, and pedaled off. Once it seemed like the gears were working, I called my husband to let him know we were OK. He said he was already half way home from work.

Once I made my way to the hill near our house, I saw him parked on the side of the road. "Can you make it home?" he asked. I told him that I thought I was OK and that I wanted to finish this last hill climb. He said he was going to head home, but to call if I needed him.

We finally wheeled into the drive way. "High five! You made it home!" he said, extending his palm towards me. I rolled my eyes, laughed and gave him a high five. He pulled Elizabeth out of the trailer, who was all smiles.

Moral of the story: at minimum, do not leave home without a mutli-tool and baby food.

Optional: a bottle of wine waiting at home to celebrate working your way through a mechanical.

I vowed to learn a little more about bike maintenance. And refresh my skills for changing a flat tire. I'm envisioning Justin and I hanging in the garage - me perfecting my tire changing skills while he times me - NASCAR pit crew style.

Make your life healthy,

Janet