Last week, while I was not riding because of my head cold, I developed a bad saddle sore. How could that happen? Well, I assume I contracted it during that metric century I did on my birthday. After all, it was my longest ride of the year by far, and there was probably some rubbing going on down there. But I wasn’t bothered during the ride. Or after the ride. It was only as the following week wore on that I realized I had a problem. Even walking was painful.
I took a look, and sure enough, there it was — only bigger than saddle sores I’ve had in the past. Typically, they’re about the size of a pimple. But this one was el zitto supremo! I waited for it to diminish, and even got two extra days for that to happen when my Friday and Saturday rides got rained out.
On Sunday though, my wife wanted to ride. I was leery about going with the saddle sore, but I threw caution to the winds and joined her for a nice 16-miler. The ride was comfortable for me. I felt no rubbing, no soreness. Nothing like I’ve gone through in the past when I’ve ridden with saddle sores.
Back home, I found the sore had almost disappeared. Just that one ride took care of it.
I’m baffled as to why. I’m guessing that it must have popped during the ride, but I would think that that would make it even worse because rubbing would aggravate it. So I’m not entirely sure what went on, but I’m glad it did. Today’s 25-miler went off without a hitch.
I think I’ll still be careful about riding with saddle sores in the future, but at least I know now that riding with those little buggers won’t necessarily knock me off the bike for several days.