Going Out of my Way

Today was a day of people encounters.

To the guy in the white pickup truck who thought it would be fun to lean out the window and shriek at me as the truck passed me:  Since I couldn’t actually understand anything you said, I’ve decided that it was something along the lines of:  “You are the epitome of cycling perfection.  I wish I could be just like you.”

To the person who shouted”  “WOOOOOOOOOOO!  You go!” as I rode past your house:  You actually sounded kind of sarcastic to me, but I’ll take your words at face value.  Thank you very much.

To the lady in the van who stared right at me as she pulled out in front of me and cut me off:  Since this is a family blog, I will restrict myself to saying that you are a boo-boo head and let it go at that.

To the boy sitting beside the lady in the van who was clearly pointing me out and remonstrating with the driver:  I like you.  If that was your mother, I’m sorry she’s a boo-boo head, but I won’t hold it against you.  Have a nice day.

To the three scary looking dogs I saw standing at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere watching me like I was a carry-out dinner that had been delivered to their doorstep while the ringing of distant banjos filled the air:  Thank you for simply staring at me as I rode past you and not actually chasing and devouring me.  I appreciate it.

I have been back on the bike for only a few weeks now, and circumstances kept me off of the bike for a week.  Not a good scenario.  In case you’re wondering, when you take a week off after only being back on the bike for a few weeks, you suffer.

My legs asked me what the heck I thought I was doing.  They told me that the week off had convinced them that I hadn’t really been serious about getting back on the bike and they threatened to go on strike, but, after a while, they decided to play along and pedal after all.

The sky was a mass of dark clouds, and it was definitely windy – one of those annoying winds that swirls around, changes direction, changes speeds and makes it very difficult to fall into any kind of a rhythm, and it looked like rain – but I decided to do 20 miles anyway.

Then, about 6 miles in, I hit the detour sign.  The road I wanted to go down was not only blocked by barricades, it had been torn up.  I wasn't feeling any cyclocross urges, so I turned around and tried to make up a new 20 mile route on the spur of the moment.  Good thing my computer's working again.

I had two target ride times in mind:  one which would let me shrug my shoulders and say, "Yeah, that's alright," and one which would make me say, "Woohoo!  I did it!"  As I was nearing the end of the ride I looked at the time on my computer.  Remember that time that would make me say, "That's alright"?  Well, I was 9 minutes slower than that!  Booooooo!  Then I checked my distance.  Whoops.  My 20 mile ride was actually a little over 24 miles.Wait a minute.  That means I have to recalculate my target times, and that means, "Woohoo!  I did it!"

Excellent.