Bourgeois Dilemma #29: my bike trip in tuscany is causing me stress

Yes, it's been a while since I've found the time to write. First, I had to return to Alison from Aliey which involves a lot of unpacking, reorganizing and the like. I needed to check on things like the progress across the way at the Krugman's (looks like they might move in sometime sort of soon). And find stuff that Carmen managed to lose even though we weren't even home. The kids had to get back to school, which happens to little, too late in my estimation. The dog had to be neutered and a summer's worth of weird food remainders left around by my sweet husband had to be painstakingly weeded out "oh honey, that's not a bug in your cereal, it's just the way they cook it." Oops. It was a bug. A lot of bugs, in fact. Humming in the background of all this of course is The Job. Very busy. Sweaty palms busy. But that's a good thing.

So where and how in all of this am I supposed to get ready for a week long bike trip in Tuscany?

One of the outcomes of the particular trajectory of my life is that I am fortunate to know a handful of people whose generous spirit is equalled by their generous bank account and from time to time, we are the direct beneficiaries of their largess. Now, vacationing with the Wealthy is not for the faint of heart because at times, the "free" vacation ends up costing more than one might spend on the typical family outing to the time share. Which is not to say it's not worth it to get to the alps for a week in a chalet with fresh chocolate croissants for breakfast every day. But funny things can happen (maybe it's the altitude?) such as getting swept away and finding yourself standing on a laser foot measurement device purchasing $1800 ski boots that are guaranteed to fit forever. Because that's what all the other kids are doing! All kidding aside, I've seen horses on stage at La Fenice in Venice, para sailed off the side of a mountain with my skis on, and skied off piste in the alps like I was born to do it and I am a better person, if poorer, for having gone along.

But now, it's gone massive. We are being treated to a week long bike trip in Toscana Maratima. We will ride up to 100 miles a day with climbs up to beautiful medieval mountain towns overlooking the hills, do yoga every morning and learn to make olive oil. And, lucky for us, we are someone's guest on the trip. Which is awesome. But it does not make it "free." Mainly because you cannot train for a bike trip like that on a 12 year old hybrid mommy bike with a seat on the back and a basket on the front.

Step 1: go to the bike shop and get a proper bike. Go with the intention of getting the cheapest bike you can get away with to serve the purpose. Leave with a carbon road bike with custom pedals, the newest shoe technology, special ultra padded bike shorts, jerseys, socks, glasses and gloves. Make an appointment to have the bike "fitted" and be sure to give the bike store man your email so that he can let you know when the arm warmers and windbreakers are in. While you are there, buy new bikes for your children and get everyone in the family a new insulated water bottle. Why not?

Step 2: make the time to ride the bike for up to 2-3 hours at a stretch. Thank god, it seems that Alison can rely on some of the same muscles that Aliey has been working on the tennis court over the summer to pedal on the bike as it seems to go pretty well the first time out. And there are some side benefits. The special cycling gear, for example, is kind of like full body spanx. Sometimes, I don't want to take it off when I get home. The glasses are cool and super lightweight and look like the ones Bono wears. Except for the fact that I am keeling over backward on account of the shoes, I actually look pretty hot. Thinking that my friend Delia might be better off taking up cycling so as to look the part at her kids sporting events. The nice thing about the rides themselves is that they take me to places I wouldn't otherwise be at times I wouldn't be there. Like along the shoreline at 6AM in CT the day I took my dad to have his driving test. Watching fat men with carpenter's smiles reel in crabs while the tide rushed in sure was a nice way to start the day. Naturally, my sweet husband has cancelled his marathon training in order to make time for the bike trip preparation and reported to me over dinner tonight as he shoved taco number 4 down his craw that he weighs the same as he did his senior year in high school. Me? Chowing the three mini packets of swedish fish from the big bag I bought to send as a care package to my goddaughter in boarding school and that sort of wanton eating of junk means that ride as I may, I am still subject to apt commentary like mommy your flab is hanging down tonight.

Step 3: the crushing blow. Procure the appropriate "apres bike" attire and required gear. Tuscany in October. It might be hot, it might be cold. You need to walk around the medieval towns. Swim by the sea. Look casual but elegant for dinner. Bring a yoga mat if you like padding underneath you when you do yoga. Somehow it seems that just wearing the body spanx bike gear with a pashmina and big earrings isn't going to cut it here. So I trawl around the sale racks at j crew and banana republic hoping to find a few signature items to enliven the white jeans. Do they know in sienna that it's gauche to wear white after labor day? I hope not.

But you know, the special bike is pretty darn fast. When I get on and start to pedal, it moves and I get a little frisson just like when I was a kid and Mrs. Blum let us ride in her circular driveway and play "village". Yesterday I went whizzing all the way down to wall street in about 30 minutes. Of course, I did get totally lost and ended up in Chinatown and only managed to suffer the humiliation of falling while panicking and failing to properly release my foot from the pedal once. As a master of the universe striding by said "that looks more embarrassing than painful." Right-o chap. Over the weekend I encountered a professional bike race in central park and had the pleasure of being passed at high speeds by packs of cyclists who seem to be able to propel themselves uphill faster than I can go in a car. Good for them! I only wish that I was as lucky as the girl on a date with the dude in the "palo alto cycling" jersey who actually put his hand in the small of her back and pushed her up the big hill. But I am sure that on the bike trip there will be a suave fellow named Fabrizio who is there for just that purpose on the way to Castagneto Carducci.

Or there's always the van.