The Day My Husband Was Proven Right

My husband, Dan, and I went for a fall bike ride on Boise's Greenbelt last week. It was beautiful. We will probably go for another ride this weekend. But this story is not about what a gorgeous city Boise is during the fall or how lucky we are to live in a community with so many wonderful trails and recreational areas. All of that is true, of course.

But this is a story about the day my husband was proven right.

Dan has been bugging me for years to raise my bike seat. I like it when my feet touch the ground. I am short, and my feet don't touch the ground very often when I sit on things. It's kind of nice that my feet touch the ground when I am sitting stationary on my bike.

But, alas, you are not supposed to be able to do that.

Dan and I were attempting a selfie on one of the Greenbelt bridges, when a woman walking a cute bull dog offered to take a picture of us.

"You need to raise that saddle," the woman said to me. "I used to own a bike shop. You're not getting enough extension." 

She turned to Dan, "You're extending perfectly. She needs to raise that saddle."

"I tell her that all the time," he said with a satisfied (but slightly hesitant What-Will-Becky-Do-To-Me) smile, "don't I?"

I nodded.

"Seriously, you'll have more power. Your legs won’t be as sore. You'll have better extension in your knees. It will feel weird at first," she said, "but you'll be able to keep up with him."

She gestured toward Dan.

(Unlikely. I’m too chicken to keep up with him.)

“Raise that saddle!” she recommended one last time before she left us.

“I think it’s been sinking," I said to Dan as we started to ride off. "It wasn’t always this low."

Dan rode behind me in silence.

"Okay! You can raise my seat but only because she had me at my legs won’t be as sore. And only because she told me as an expert, not because of anything you said.”

He continued to ride behind me in silence, but I could feel the grin creep across his face.

We raised the saddle as soon as we got to the parking lot. Another downside to raising the saddle? I slam my crotch against the seat every time I stop.

“How does that feel?” Dan asked after I had ridden around for a few minutes.

“Fine. My vagina feels fine.”

That night, Dan caught me taking notes on my laptop about our encounter with the bike shop lady.

“Are you writing a blogging idea?" Dan asked, "about how your husband is always right? He is often right. You must admit that.”

I groaned. 

Biking experts, don’t judge me by the saddle height in this picture. It’s adjusted now!

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.