A Beautiful Day For A Ride
I look in the mirror at the bulge that used to be hard and rippling six-pack abs. No wonder Sharon hasn’t been as interested in me as she used to be. My wife nods in my direction as she leaves the room to start the morning coffee. I pull on the shiny material of the biking shorts, and glance back once more at the mirror. Ugh. That is the last straw. How did I let myself get this far? I remember the good old days of college when I was the star quarterback for one of the best universities in New England. The smell of Foldgers® brings me back to the present reality, and I give my wife a gentle kiss as I reach for the steaming “#1 Dad!” mug.
“So, today’s the big ride,” she questions, a smile running away with the edges of her mouth? There have been so many “big rides” that her skepticism is really no wonder anymore. But today is going to be different. I can just feel it. Something feels uncertain, like something drastic is looming in the very near future.
“Yep, today’s the day,” is my confident reply.
“Good luck, hon! Have a good time, and remember not to over-do it, we have that benefit tomorrow night, and we can’t have you waddling around like a maimed horse in front of the head of the department, now can we?” At the roll of my eyes, she continues, “Steve, remember what happened at the spring conference? When you - ”
“I remember,” I cut her off. I shake my head, clearing it of the embarrassment, and with another quick peck on her cheek, I’m out the door.
The ride isn’t so bad – a quick twelve-miler. I should be home in an hour. I start off at a good pace, and pleased with my surprisingly high cadence, I kick it up a notch, just to see what happens. I am sailing along with the wind streaming through the vents in my helmet and thinning hair. I begin to picture myself racing my buddy, Doug. I surpass his weak mirage within seconds, and then realize that I have true competitors not far ahead of me. They had just pulled out of an intersecting back road, and as they picked up speed I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy as I noticed one’s particularly muscled calves pounding in a strong steady rhythm down the highway. I had easily pulled ahead of my imaginary challenger, and boosted by that confidence, my motivational thoughts morph into a scene from the Tour de France – I am Lance, overcoming adversary, and huge calves, and pulling up close for the win! I can do it! I can! I can! I –
My thoughts are halted as quickly as they had advanced. I press the brakes, and almost forget to kick out of the clips that hold my cleated shoe to the machine beneath me that now seems so unstable and unsafe. There, not 100 yards ahead of me, right where the finish line would have been, the man with the calves lay sprawled an the pavement. My mind did not seem to compute what had just happened – all of it was over so fast. The sounds that must have occurred were muted to my ears. His friends turned, dumbly, with pure shock etched into every one of their features. I watched as the van sped away, and as the truck driver ran over in slow motion. I stared blankly, not comprehending, and turned my bike around. When I had arrived home and gained the ability to recount the experience to my wife, I realized that today had indeed brought drastic events. And today was not the big day. In fact, I doubt very much that that day will ever come.
“So, today’s the big ride,” she questions, a smile running away with the edges of her mouth? There have been so many “big rides” that her skepticism is really no wonder anymore. But today is going to be different. I can just feel it. Something feels uncertain, like something drastic is looming in the very near future.
“Yep, today’s the day,” is my confident reply.
“Good luck, hon! Have a good time, and remember not to over-do it, we have that benefit tomorrow night, and we can’t have you waddling around like a maimed horse in front of the head of the department, now can we?” At the roll of my eyes, she continues, “Steve, remember what happened at the spring conference? When you - ”
“I remember,” I cut her off. I shake my head, clearing it of the embarrassment, and with another quick peck on her cheek, I’m out the door.
The ride isn’t so bad – a quick twelve-miler. I should be home in an hour. I start off at a good pace, and pleased with my surprisingly high cadence, I kick it up a notch, just to see what happens. I am sailing along with the wind streaming through the vents in my helmet and thinning hair. I begin to picture myself racing my buddy, Doug. I surpass his weak mirage within seconds, and then realize that I have true competitors not far ahead of me. They had just pulled out of an intersecting back road, and as they picked up speed I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy as I noticed one’s particularly muscled calves pounding in a strong steady rhythm down the highway. I had easily pulled ahead of my imaginary challenger, and boosted by that confidence, my motivational thoughts morph into a scene from the Tour de France – I am Lance, overcoming adversary, and huge calves, and pulling up close for the win! I can do it! I can! I can! I –
My thoughts are halted as quickly as they had advanced. I press the brakes, and almost forget to kick out of the clips that hold my cleated shoe to the machine beneath me that now seems so unstable and unsafe. There, not 100 yards ahead of me, right where the finish line would have been, the man with the calves lay sprawled an the pavement. My mind did not seem to compute what had just happened – all of it was over so fast. The sounds that must have occurred were muted to my ears. His friends turned, dumbly, with pure shock etched into every one of their features. I watched as the van sped away, and as the truck driver ran over in slow motion. I stared blankly, not comprehending, and turned my bike around. When I had arrived home and gained the ability to recount the experience to my wife, I realized that today had indeed brought drastic events. And today was not the big day. In fact, I doubt very much that that day will ever come.
