The Bike Whisperer

I have achieved a major milestone in my life as a cyclist. I've come-of-age, if you will. I've been tested by the road and I have not been found wanting.

I have changed a flat tire.

Or tyre, if you are Emma.

No, this girl-becomes-woman event did not occur roadside (blast!), but rather in the sweaty safety of my back patio. As I was unpacking from my trip to Marianna, after returning home from the Freedom Springs Triathlon (where I finished second -- don't know if you heard), I found that my front tire had mysteriously flattened.

Armed with the skills I acquired at my one and only bike workshop, I got down to business. Only ten minutes and three swear words later, I had a good-as-new tire!

Yay me. But I really hope I never have to do that in a race. Or anywhere away from home. Or ever again.