Cue meltdown in three...two...one...

Since the past few blogging days have been about making embarrassing confessions, I have another for you:

I had a mini meltdown on Sunday about my bike.

I knew it was coming, based on my internal freak-out that happened on Saturday. Luckily I was able to accomplish something productive out of the whole incident.

I was supposed to swim on Sunday, but my body was just far too sore from Saturday's run, so I wussed out. Instead I decided to conquer my biking fears. I dutifully suited up in some biking clothes, affixed my helmet, and set off into the garage to confront the beast.

My husband supportively came with me and tried to give me a lesson on shifting gears because, as we've covered, I'm in my mid-20s and do not know how to properly ride a bike. He toyed with the gear shifters for a few minutes, face scrunched up. He finally made the grand pronouncement of "I don't think these are working." Great.

He then helpfully attempted to inflate my tires a bit. Instant problem: We don't have the proper adapter to attach the air pump to the tires. In his effort to try, he wound up partially deflating my tires. Things are going just grand at this point.

So here I stand, in my bike clothes, nerdy helmet perched on my head, with no working bike. I sullenly wander inside the house to see if the local bike shop is open on Sunday for tune ups. No dice. They're not open until Tuesday.

I burst into tears.

An overreaction, to be sure, but I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. I felt like all this training I've been doing has been a big sham. Who was I to think I could do something as athletic as compete in a triathlon? How could I have possibly thought I could pull of an April 18 sprint tri without knowing how to adequately ride a bike and swimming at the speed of molasses? Why was I even bothering?

I cried for a few minutes while my cats circled in concern. I then bucked up and found another bike shop in the area, one that specializes in triathlons, that was open for another 30 minutes. My husband and I loaded the bike in my car and off we went. She should be ready on Wednesday for pickup. Come that time I'm going to swallow my insecurities and ask the shop for a brief tutorial on how to use my bike most efficiently (aka, "Please help me, I don't even know how to change gears).

This will get easier. I will get better.