The trouble with bikes..

My back hurts. The bottom bit. Not the bottom, bottom bit, but the bit just up from the bottom bit. Let's call it my lower back. It's not eyewateringly painful, or intakeofbreathingly hurty, it's just a bit grumbly. You know how if someone tells you that they have hung out your washing this isn't for information sharing purposes? Cos, you know, it's normally quite apparent without the announcement. However, they tell you just so you know that you've been a little bit annoying. Well, it's sort of like that. I don't normally need my back to tell me it's there. I know this from such things as bending and also my head being about five feet away from my toes. But right now it is choosing to make me slightly more aware of it's presence because it's a little bit cross with me.

"Why pray tell?" I hear you ask. ("Does that point need a paragraph of build up?" I hear you mutter..)

This week I have been cycling. Lots. Mainly downhill, but lots. To college I race, to Alex's I wizz, to church I dash, to Prison View I fly. It's been great. Life is a lot quicker on Esther's wheels and I can be here, there and just about everywhere (so long as it's mainly downhill) in minutes. However, it not being my bicycle and me being a bit of a scaredy cat mean that several things are true:

One. I do not have a helmet.
Two. I do not have lights.

and therefore...

Three. To compensate for this I sometimes ride on the pavement.

But other than being shouted at by both people I know and people I don't know, but do annoy, this has been fine. I was loving my new found freedom and speed. I even managed to balance a bottle of wine on my handlebars on Saturday night. This was surely the good life?

Until my back started to hurt.

You see the damage would seem to have been done not by my lack of accessories but the fact that me and the bike aren't quite the right fit. His seat is a bit low, his handlebars are questionable. I can't work gears. And so whilst we've been getting the job done, actually we've probably been shortening both of our lifespans quite considerably.

I'm about to meet Billie and Jake to go to a student Question Time with Ben Bradshaw et al. so I don't really have time to think this through, but I do find it interesting. I've enjoyed riding the bike. I haven't had any accidents, I haven't run into any trouble. I've been wanting to jump on and do it again and again, thinking that I had found the silver bullet to my troubles.

And yet actually it's been doing me quite a lot of damage that I couldn't see to start with. On the surface it's been solving one problem (lateness) but under the surface it's been creating a much bigger one (potential cripple). It would be interesting to map out how many more of Esther's bikes there are in my life that I'm not noticing the impact of at the minute.

Right, Ben. You're going to vote, yeah? Good.