He didn’t really want to be awake at this hour, but it was the only way. Or one of them, at least. Because he wanted to spend more time with her, he would rise before the sun, making use of the small window between their entwined slumber and the dirge of another day at the office. But still she saw those stolen hours as time he could be spending in her company. She never said it, but he knew…
He didn’t want to give her up, nor the bike. Why should he have to choose? He loved them both, of course, in different ways. She never asked him to make a choice, she knew how much it meant to him, and she knew how much he meant to her, and her to him. There would never be one or the other. There never could. He would always be shared between her and the bike, though in the literal sense, he truly only loved her. In some strange way, she felt lucky for this.
He had made concessions, a ride conveniently forgotten, waylaid, postponed. Still, it seemed to her that he was always flitting off to the trails, always managing to squeeze in another loop. There was never enough time in the day, he would lament. Always tired, both of them. His energy used for the ride, legs and back dully aching, mentally drained, too fatigued to do anything but sleep.
They were not interested in fighting. I don’t want to fight, she said. He didn’t want to either. Rather than fight, they simply wouldn’t talk. When he told her that he could never give up his bicycle to another man, her reaction was one of bemusement. It’s just a bike, she said. His contemptuous retort indicated otherwise; he would never give her up to another man, it’s just not done. Same with the bicycle.
She accepted, if not understood. How could he compare her to a bicycle? He couldn’t, she was the most important part of his puzzle, one that had taken an age to find all the right pieces and fit them together. Some pieces could be interchanged, but not that one. She never wanted to be a Velomiwidow. He would see to it that she wasn’t.
Flesh and blood, steel and rubber, heart and soul.
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@Buck Rogers
Great story! If my brother ever comes over from the UK to visit me in the US, I'll lend him a bike (helpfully, we're aout the same size). Beyond that, no way. Maybe it's because, as Velominati, we cherish our machines, have often painstakingly assembled them piece by piece, (rather than simply off the rack) and have spent hours fine tuning them to fit our bodies to within milliimeters. Such attention to detail cannot be trifled with as a loan might see the borrower "adjust" things and generally mess things up. I have four road bikes and could tell you every component on each one as well as the height of the saddle to the BB, the reach from saddle tip to bars, length of stem, etc, etc.
We had an understanding when vacationing in CO with insane riding all around. The bike: 6 am until 2 pm. The VMH: 3 pm until whenever. It works.
The picture made me smile; we also had a bike wheel arch at our wedding back in May. Not because I was about the become a VelomiWidow, but because we are both cyclists :)
In a funny way, we both understand each others need to ride (or not); he is fast and I am not, so we don't ride/train together very often, which is fine; we have different goals. Our place is full of bike related stuff - and yes, the 2 nicest "his & her" bikes are in the living room. If I get a new bike, he wants one too and vice-versa - which is why we have an average of 12 bike at any point in time... (and a trike, don't ask me why!). We very rarely sell a bike - last time I did, years ago, it was to a friend who still sends me update of where she goes on the bike!
He surprised me with new pink bar tape AND colour matched pink cable housing. Beat chocolate and flowers anytime (but hey, I'm human and love chocolate too!).
Beautifully written... It made me realize how lucky I am to share my love of bicycles with my husband!
Long time lurker, to to weigh in officially.
When I think of all the feed zone handups on some god forsaken wind swept mountainside or plain, the freezing cold cyclo cross races, my pissed off car ride home because I rode poorly, and all the promises that we'll do something together after the race/ride but being so exhausted that I fall asleep on the couch, I'm reminded that who else would have put up with me all these years. Cheers to all the VMWs everywhere.
"sets me up to be a patient semi zombie, happy in the mall"
Very familiar with the weekend semi zombie state.
My VMW tests me every now and then, it's always the weekly bunch ride, it's always formed as a question, "why don't you take the day off, and spend it with me instead?", it is really an instruction and one I always heed, she just wants me to choose her over that fuckin bike, Oh well guess it's a recovery week then!!
I had to laugh too. My wife is usually the one to push me out the door for a long overdue ride. Apparently I turn into Hyde when it's been too long between rides and only return to Jekyll by getting some time in the saddle.
Re: the lead photo. Maybe it's only in Belgium, but you're asked to show up to a wedding with a wheel to hold above the bride and groom's heads in a semblance of an arch, and you bring just a rim and the tubular you're gently stretching on it. That's hardcore right there. Not some regular full wheel with tire, but a rim and tub. Nice!
@zwigli
Chapeau! I'm glad there is one bride happy to see a bunch of guys holding up bike wheels (and a guy in a skirt) at her wedding. Yes, it's much better to be married to a cyclist, as I am too. It defuses the whole thing and Rule #12 has to be observed where if your mate always has to have a slightly nicer bike than yours. And you can spend time together cycling and drinking malted recovery beverage afterward. It's perfect.
@Rob also well put. Thought provoking and especially true as the wife covers my sons basketball practice so I can attend our weekly LBS nighttime gravel road road ride.