The Old Man That Almost Was Not

The morning fog is heavy but the hills are still bright. I'm breathing out of my mouth; not a fact I'm proud of, but there are few cyclists riding uphill at the moment so I let my guard down and huff-and-puff. From my right the quiet morning stillness is broken by a sharp, “Good morning.”

Startled, I reply back in a short bark. “Morning.”

The old man is going about 10 miles an hour. My speedometer reads 8.3. I close my mouth and wait for him to pass.
I was unprepared for the quietness of my ride to be broken. If I could take a cross section of my thoughts the moment “Good” came out of his mouth and put the small chunk of thought/reaction under a microscope it would look like this on paper:

                G: What the F-

                O: Heart rate increases/adrenaline increases

                O: Urge to lash out, bite and maul the intruder

                D: Urge to leap out and strike the intruder

                M: Urges controlled

                O: Anger lingers

                R: Realization that a reply will be necessary

                N: Searching for words ("F*** off" deemed inappropriate)

                I: Observe intruder: Old man (not happy/not sad)

                N: No harm intended

                G: Proceed with appropriate reply on exhale

I want to explain why I was mouth-breathing. I want to tell him that my legs were still worn from Sunday’s ride. (25 miles from Ashby/Sacramento in Berkeley to The Village in Castro Valley. Yeah. It was a good one.)

                But then he’s gone. 

                He rides ahead and I’m left alone again.

                I would say this:

                My knees are shot from wild land firefighting. I just rode 25 miles from one city to another. I’m new to riding. It’s foggy out. I am sunburned from Warped Tour. My hands still smell like hot dogs (not a valid excuse, but information I’d want him to have, nonetheless).

                These aren’t excuses, per se, but they would be very good reasons why I wasn’t quite up to speed.

In any event, I didn’t leap onto an old man this morning and eat him like a puma. I did get pretty far up Tunnel Road before I had to turn around to get to work. And I did get a ride in.

I think training is coming around nicely. Wayne, the TnT SF Cycling head coach, and Linda, my TnT mentor, have given me some pretty good pointers on how not too look too foolish on my fancy bike.

Pouncing onto the elderly that happen catch me on a slow day isn’t something that they taught me. Rather, it’s something I learned on my own. And isn’t that more valuable when all is said and done?