Forget the fact that I swam 4,000 yards this morning (T-pace looks firmly between 1:48-1:51/100 right now). Or that I rallied on the bike trainer for an hour late tonight...while watching Glee with Stephanie. No, that's not what I'm proudest of.
I changed two fictional flat tires.
Well, OK. I changed one. Before I put too much pressure in the CO2 cartridge and blew up the tube. I totally dazed myself too! It felt like when you play Call of Duty and you've been hit with a flash-bang grenade. I was momentarily stunned and spacey. Steph rushed into the room to ask if I was OK. I managed to say I was fine, but definitely felt a little loopy for a moment.
I think I pinched the tube while putting it in.
Maybe that is an understatement.
BUT...but, I rallied. I got a new cartridge, gathered myself, and tried again. This time, I got it right. Even though it took a LONG time (14 minutes), I still took out the old tube, slightly inflated a new one, inserted it properly, encased it and didn't pop my eardrums.
Granted, I haven't yet taken the back tire off my bike and re-attached it. That will come next. For now, I just want to practice getting the flats fixed. Honestly, I can see that it's not hard. I just need to do it more often and not stress out about it. Both easier said than done.
I'm going to buy a bunch of cartridges tomorrow and practice every night from here until I leave for Arizona. I may even ask my work buddy and cycling mentor, Frank, if he'll let me work with him all next week on honing my tire-changing technique. Even if I can get down to 10 minutes for a rear tire, that would rock.
Wish me luck. And that I don't go deaf between now and then from more unexpected bursts!
19 days and counting.