What on Earth?

I confess I don't really like Earth Day. The sad fact that we have to be reminded to take care of Mother Earth is one reason. Another reason would be that it has become a symbol of the growing divide between two types of people in this country; those that embrace or accept change, and those that desperately cling to a past that never really existed.

Bicycles have been in use for a period that exceeds the life span of anyone currently alive, and yet most people regard me (and my bike) with a sense of bewilderment...before they attempt to run me off the road. (OK, that doesn't really happen, much.)

So imagine my surprise when I had an actual conversation with a driver that wasn't an exchange of expletives at the top of our respective voices. A woman in a newer VW Beetle passed me on a multi-lane street, very much in my lane, and then proceeded to drift over as she completed the pass. This strikes me as dangerous and to be honest, a little disrespectful (cue the disrespected athlete montage). We were coming to a light that had turned red, so I pulled up next to her instead of dropping in behind. I stared in through the window with a look (I presume) a few degrees harder than my "let's have a frank and open exchange of ideas" face. Fortunately, I did not open my mouth. The driver then put down her window, and said "Hi!" Now it was my turn to be bewildered. Did I know her? Did she know me? What would I have said if she had not spoken first (yikes, 8 years in the Army means I know all the good words to use in tense situations)? Once I put my jaw back in its customary position, I said "Hi!" And I think the driver sensed my agitation because she launched into a "baby, I wouldn't hit you" and "don't worry sugar, I saw you" and "no, no, you go first when the light changes." Or maybe she was just a nice person who unknowingly made a mistake, and was doing all she could to make it right.

None of this changes the fact that I still might end up bleeding to death from a hit-and-run (it's happened twice to fellow cyclists on these roads since I've been paying attention) on these roads that I love. What it does change, incrementally, is my belief that most drivers are locked into a routine that prevents them from processing new information.

As a side note, here's a small testament to my love of cycling. Yesterday was a full day with no room for cycling though a recovery ride of 2-3 hours was on the schedule. I arrived home at 9:15 PM, and while my family went to sleep, I rode. Arriving home early the next day some three hours later I was happily weary.

I am a child

I have jokingly said this many thousands of times since being officially recognized as an adult. The joke is that it is absolutely true. I was planning a ride recently, and I cannot describe the pure joy I felt while contemplating "what will happen during the ride?" On second thought, I can describe it. It's exactly what I felt when, as a child, I thought about Christmas before I knew Santa was a big, fat fake.

I don't know if I've mentioned it before but this racing season the USCF classifies me as a 40-year-old. Almost twenty years ago now, I was a pretty good runner and cyclist, and I occasionally won. I had no notion of training except that I should ride as much as I possibly could. Fast forward to now and I have become more self-aware, more tuned to what my body is telling me. I can follow a training plan. I can hurt myself with intervals knowing with absolute certainty that I will be better for it. That seems a very adult perspective. At least it's a recognition of long-term goals superceding short-term desires. And yet, childlike wonder pervades all of it.

This past Sunday I participated in my 3rd race of the season, and the first after three weeks off. I wasn't sure what to expect as my first two results were less than stellar, my weight is still too high (242), and I've only got three weeks of intervals in my legs. I go into every race with butterflies. It's like I'm wondering if this is the week that everyone figures out what a fraud I am. So my first fear is not to get dropped on the first lap (RR of 6, 8-mile laps). The pace went through the roof and I did not get dropped. Physically, I wasn't capable of laughter at that point, but inside I was laughing; a big, belly laugh that might follow a sentence like "and I thought I'd seen it all..." And it got better...two laps later I attacked and got a gap of 30 seconds or so. Now, that isn't much, but as soon as my wheel was the first wheel I could have exploded from pure, unadulterated delight. Part of me knew I wasn't going to stay away, but the child laughed, and this time it was out loud. Picture PeeWee Hermann in his Big Adventure dreaming about winning the Tour deFrance and you'll have some idea of what was going on in my head.

If I keep at this I'll get better, and I may someday have a chance to win a race or two. Though if it means I have to trade in all of that wide-eyed wonder, well then I'll pass. There is no doubt about it. I am a child.