Back in the saddle again

Or: "Don't they make seats for girls?"

I went cycling yesterday for the first time in something like thirteen years. (I don't remember precisely when it was I last cycled, but I know it wasn't during university days and I definitely did me some cycling as a secondary school student, which leaves only the grayishly suspect junior college days unaccounted for.) I was petrified, not so much that I'd've forgotten how to cycle, but that since the last thing I cycled on was a BMX bike, I wouldn't be able to handle anything else.

Fortunately, cycling on a banged-up mountain bike rented from one of the East Coast Park uncles proved to be quite similar to cycling on a BMX, just that I was slightly higher off the ground (or maybe I've grown since that last time) and that the seat hurt like hell.

Can I just say, what is with the seats? I don't remember having a sore butt when I cycled as a kid, and I used to have my own banged-up BMX that I whizzed around the estate on everyday. But within 20 minutes of easing down East Coast Park, just when we'd gotten beyond the busy McDonald's stretch and had hit a quieter area, I felt the need to shift in my seat. And to shift again, since the second position hadn't been any more comfortable than the first. Then to lean forward, upward, sideways --- all in a vain attempt to come to a more comfortable sitting position.

I know they make bicycle seats for girls, because Terz showed me some in a Scotts catalogue yesterday, but my rented bike definitely didn't have one. And that got me thinking about how all the cyclists in the Tour de France are male and is the reason there aren't any female cyclists because women aren't physically strong enough to compete in the same race as the men --- or is it because bike companies spend thousands of dollars in developing the perfect seat to protect men's little bits, but haven't quite achieved the same level of Zen comfort for the women, hmmm?

(Nardac, as the only person I know with more than a passing interest in the Tour de France, not to mention your timely blog post about Tiger, I hereby appoint thee to answer that puzzling question.)

Seating discomfort notwithstanding, ambling along on a bicycle was a relaxing way to see the easternmost stretches of the park that I don't usually visit. We rode until there wasn't any more bike path in front of us; it ends at the Safra resort along Changi Coast Walk. Oddly enough, that's where we encountered two couples in their wedding regalia, traipsing across grass and sand to have their pictures taken.

Now Terz is badgering me to get a bike of my own. But I am immune to peer pressure. Just because lisamontgomery's bought a bike (the excuse for yesterday's little excursion) and Darren's hankering after one doesn't mean I have to get one. Even if the seat on a rental hurts like hell.