I sold my road bike several years ago and bought a grandma cruiser. Cervical dystonia and three herniated discs made it impossible for me to comfortably get into an aerodynamic cycling position, but I didn’t want to give up biking after already sacrificing so much to chronic pain. The cruiser I bought is a hybrid bike with plenty of gear choices, and I added some skull stickers to make me feel better about riding a dorky bike. I love it, but until recently, the positioning was still off.
My neck gets very angry if I have any weight come through my left arm for an extended period of time, and the factory setup of the cruiser had me leaning forward too much. I raised the handlebars and lowered the seat as much as safely possible, but still no dice. The local bike shop fixed me up with a custom handlebar extender, and now I’m a much happier cyclist.
The extension piece itself is simple—a metal tube that allows the bike’s handlebars to sit up taller than they normally could. Unfortunately, the installation wasn’t so simple. All of the cables on the front of the bike were too short to accommodate the taller handlebars, so the bike technician had to put in all new cables. The labor took about an hour, but when the tech was done, I finally had a bike I could ride comfortably.
Exercising with fibromyalgia and chronic pain takes a bit of creativity, but if you’re committed, there’s usually an answer to most problems. I now sit so upright on my bike that it’s probably comical for people who see me pedal by, but I don’t care. I can ride without neck pain, and that’s worth the dork factor.
Fibromyalgia nearly owned my life. Recently, I realized that I have to take ownership of fibromyalgia, or I would have no life at all.
I can’t say that I had an actual “ah-ha” moment, but hitting rock bottom (and dwelling there for quite some time) required me to change or die. Lyrica has definitely set me on a more even, comfortable plane, and I now feel like I have the help I need to own my life as much as possible.
I’ve been spending a lot of time on my bicycle lately, and the freedom I feel on two wheels is priceless. It’s also a lot less pounding on my body compared to running, which is theoretically helpful for athletes with fibromyalgia. My bike is a hybrid that allows me to sit up almost completely straight, a necessity with my neck problems. I sold my road bike because my neck couldn’t handle the requisite hunched-over, looking-up position. The hybrid bike is a blessing on so many levels, and I’m finding myself able to ride it comfortably for more than an hour most days of the week.
Headphones and outdoor sports have long created controversy. Some people—including me—think it’s dangerous to exercise outside if your ears are plugged and your favorite music is blasting. But fibromyalgia changes everything. The disease process creates so many life-altering limitations that especially as an athlete, any sense of freedom (and maybe a little risk) is greeted with enthusiasm. I found myself blaring classic Linda Ronstadt songs on my iPod while pedaling around town yesterday, and I loved it.
As an athlete with fibromyalgia, I’ve learned that my life is limited by pain. I’ve also learned that an off-key sing-along on the bike can make my day. “Love is a rose!”