I am the Fat Lady - part 2

I've ridden my bike to work 4 times this summer. It's about a 50 minute long ride. Now that I'm more familiar with this ride my body has adjusted. I'm less tired when I get to work and less tired when I get home at night. My conclusion: I'm getting in better shape.

My last ride was memorable for the sheer speed. I took a slightly longer but flatter route to get to the bike path that heads downtown. And I was cruising, blowing by the older morning walkers and even a few of the morning bikers. I also took full advantage of my mountain bike on each slight curve and bump, standing and absorbing the bumps and curves with my knees and elbows.

I looked cool and was riding fast. Even passing people.

There is a spot where the bike path takes a turn and runs parallel to train tracks that lead directly downtown. When you make the turn you can see the buildings and everything, even though they are still miles away. That is also the spot where the path turns straight and flat. It's all paved so you can make great time.

I decided to see if I could shave a few minutes off the ride. There was no one in front of me (an no need to look behind - I was flying!) so I switched gears for maximum speed. With each change of gears I could feel the acceleration - the added wind in my face and the slight decrease in control.

"Two to go," I thought - meaning only 2 gears left until, well, there weren't any more gears to change to. I was breathing hard but it felt good.

"One more." I'm mouth-breathing now, but still feeling strong. The sun's out and there's an autumnal bite to the air.

"There." The last gear. I am blazing down this trail. No one in sight. I physically CANNOT go faster. My feet are spinning so fast I can barely keep them on the pedals, and I'm in the highest gear that exists on my bike. I enjoy the moment - feel the speed - enjoy the fusion of man and mechanics. What a beautiful feeling.

I momentarily think of Leo DeCaprio in Titanic, standing with arms in the air yelling "I'm king of the world!". I contemplate how difficult, but not impossible, this feat would be to achieve at this moment, at this speed, on this bike path. Of course I'd have to compensate for my bulky backpack, and move to the middle of the path (I usually stay to the right because I'm usually the slower traffic). Plus this mountain bike is much harder to ride "no hands" than my old French 10-speed I had in high school.

I maintain my maximum pace. "I can do this," I think. I am so caught in the moment - the beauty of the morning and of me going fast. This is the best feeling ever!

Vroom.

That was the sound of a guy passing me on the left. He was polite about it - quietly chirping "On the left" as he blew by. He had a nice racing bike, a backpack, and a tennis racquet. A f--king tennis racquet. As if to say "Not only am I kicking your ass on this bike path, but I'm in such good shape that whenever I get where I'm going, I'm going to park my bike and play an exhausting sport. Then I'll do whatever it is that I do all day, probably better than what you do all day, and ride my bike home tonight. And I may even play some more tennis after that."

I still rode fast, and did shave about 5 minutes off my best time. I suppose if I bought a cool racing bike I could do that too. Oh well.