More people filling up the bus today. I read The Safety of Objects by A.M. Holmes, but found myself unhappily beset by twinges of nausea by the time we passed the mall. Carsickness, I suppose. (Or, more accurately, bus-sickness.) Disappointing, because I really want to be able to read.
The ride from Fernbridge to Ferndale passed uneventfully. I tried to stay at 15mph, but my aching legs preferred an average of 11mph. Made it to the station at 9:58 a.m., not exactly late, but not enough time for a proper changeover with JM. I need to ride faster and reach KSLG earlier.
I practiced with the shoes again, irrationally afraid of using them, but wanting to do things the “right” way. Cliff assured me that I wouldn’t fall over as long as I was pedaling, which made sense to my logical brain, but in my paranoia, I kept imagining myself on the uphill climb, helplessly slowing down and unable to get my feet loose, at which point I’d topple into traffic and get my head squished by a passing semi. Finally I decided to lock in my right foot, but leave my left free, figuring if I did start to fall over towards traffic I could stop myself, but I’d get a feel for pedaling with the other foot.
It worked. And Cliff was right: as long as I was pedaling at a good clip, I felt fine. Whenever I slowed down, I practiced unlocking my shoe from my pedal, which helped my confidence as well. I’m not sure how much difference being able to pull up on the right pedal made while going up that initial hill out of Ferndale; I’m such a novice that the climb is all about pain, period. When I reached Hookton Road, I locked the other foot in for the ride to CR. This was a significant emotional hang-up I needed to get past, and even though I’m not totally at ease, I’m so glad I at least made progress. Just the idea of being locked into something (for other than safety reasons) scares me: skis, snowboards, bike pedals – probably because I’m such a clutz, I assume I’ll fall down. I’ll keep working on this.
Made the bus at CR this time, only to find that what I thought was a dollar bill was actually a five. I didn’t have enough coins to make the $1.95 fare, so, not wanting to explain my situation to the driver, pushed the $5 into the fare slot, muttering that I didn’t have anything smaller. Well, he was shocked and spent the next few stops collecting $3 change for me. So much for not drawing attention to myself.
We arrived in Manila. I unloaded the bike, lugged everything home and spent a glorious 10 minutes doing nothing more taxing than checking the answering machine, which included a message from Justin at Revolution – the panniers are in!
Then off to pick up kids and chauffeur the girls to practice. Later this evening, the writer/musician/artist women are meeting at my house. I will read them my ATA#1 and see what they think.