The title is a mantra of mine. Needless to say, I'm busy a lot. For those of you who aren't good at math, I do indeed have piss-poor time management skills. In the place of productivity, I read Twitter. When I need to be studying Spanish, I peruse Facebook. All those occasions that homework needs to be written, I'm furiously scouring the internet for prices on bike stuff. The rest of the time, I'm either riding, shitting or sleeping. Since I'm a vegetarian, that is the normal order too.
Speaking of riding, I rode today. I ride every day. Since I got a coach I can remember two days off the bike, not counting days recovering from my most recent concussion. Today was different however! I rolled out of my apartment workout memorized, skinny tires inflated and PowerTap ticking. Because it happens to be November in Tennessee, I was dressed sharply. My super-sweet ETSU kit, fancy yellow Mavic shoes, Smartwool socks, a sleeveless base and arm warmers. Sol, the sun god, blessed the day with a bountiful boon. Throttling up to zone 4, I slid my arm warmers down and unzipped the jersey. I was genuinely hot. I haven't dripped sweat on to my glasses in a long time.
The required efforts were logged. The fun part of the ride was just beginning. I rode home at a leisurely pace, because I was recovering! We just learned how the body's hormones react to exercise this morning. As my Cortisol levels dropped, I mulled these over. I enjoyed my exertion high immensely. Then I got cold again. With a sigh of annoyance I rolled my arm warmers back up, and re-zipped my jersey. I got back to base, and checked the clock. Not much time before my second class of the day. That two hour ride really ate up my break!
I had a cup of tea and a Clif bar. I grabbed my bag and rolled back out the door towards campus. Climbing up the back road in to campus I realized I forgot something. I had ditched the arm warmers, but I was still wearing my kit. I also smelled. Thankfully not a lot, not the normal death-stench that accompanies a hard ride. I was also on the Racemaster, hardly an ideal commuter, and certainly not a bike to be left laying around on campus. I might leave it locked up if I had it chained to a guard velociraptor or if Blackwater hired out for that sort of duty.
Long story short I clomped through the halls of a college campus in between classes wearing a full cycling dork suit, replete with super-clicky, difficult-to-walk-in shoes. The looks people gave me were incredible. I read eyes that said everything from "Wow, check his package!" to "Holy fuck! What in the name of Jesus' illegitimate daughter is that thing?! It t'ain't got no hair on its legs!" If anyone in my actual class thought it was weird, they certainly didn't say anything, which was cool.
I took my test and awkwardly clicked out of class. I was relieved to reach the ground floor without tumbling. Speedplay cleats - for all the incredible function they provide when attached to a bicycle, are equally lacking when walking down slick stairs.
0 comments:
Post a Comment