Word to Your Mother... the Bike Commuter

Have you ever commuted to work, or done a training ride, and passed about a million people on the local bike path, and wanted to tee off on about half of them? Today was one of those days. So today, I'm going to blog a Word to Your Mother... who insists on walking her dog on a loooong leash on a mixed use trail.

To the guy on the MTB who did a standing sprint to get ahead of me when I drifted past doing about 22 on a slight downhill...

Dude. I'm on an easy spin. Don't hurt yourself. But for God sakes, if you're going to pass me like that, you'd better ride me off the wheel like Jens freakin' Voigt himself, because passing you back 30 seconds later when you are wheezing and gasping only makes me laugh at you, and while that might be embarassing for you, it makes me feel like a real ass in retrospect.

To the girl who was jogging right down the middle with the I-Pod cranked up...

Hey, don't worry about hearing me shouting "bike back" and "on your left." Next time I'll just stick out my bony elbow and clip your arm a bit when I ride by at full tilt. Bet you stay in your lane after that.

To the guy on the mountain bike who hung with me for a long time doing 22-23, and didn't appear to be working hard at all:

You da man, buddy. You da man.

To the guy who pulled onto the Capital Crescent in Georgetown, then locked 'em up right in front of me, to get off and make a phone call...

I'll hit your ass too, Bozo, only it won't be on purpose. You very nearly didn't give me a choice. Try practicing some situational awareness next time.

To the fellow in the Mercedes who was stopped in the middle of K Street, then suddenly swerved in toward the curb and nearly clipped the guy riding in front of me:

Hey, go ahead. Hit that cyclist. You paid for that Merc. You can drive it however you like. I'm sure the cost of a major lawsuit is nothing to you, and like many people I know, I'm sure you find the company of lawyers quite entertaining. You should, because your defense team is going to take one look at that fat Merc 500, and charge you about the same number of dollars an hour per attorney, and they will need to surround you with a lot of them. So drive badly with vigor, my friend. Drive badly with vigor.

To the guy I ran the red light in front of:

Sorry bro. Sometimes I'm a real jerk too. I was just trying to get well out of your way. It worked, too, because I burned the next three lights in a row on my way to work. Please don't hold my stupidity against the next guy.

To that cute girl in a local club jersey commuting on the bike:

Keep it up. You've got nice eyes, and in case you didn't notice it, bike clubs are a target rich environment for a girl like yourself.

To the guy in the elevator:

Sorry for getting on the elavator with you. No, I didn't cut one. It's the helmet. I've tried everything. It still smells like dead skunks on fire piled on top of a mountain of burning baby diapers. Really. It's the helmet. I swear!

To the Army guy who was ruckmarching down the C&O, probably getting ready for the Special Forces Assessment:

Hoooo-ah!

To my friend Mike, who just had his first "small group ride" with me today, along with about 40 people who passed us repeatedly at Hains:

Good job! Keep it up, pal. It's hard at first, but if you just relax and let it, the bike will carry you along. I'll keep at you about keeping it up, but you have to get on the damn thing every day. If you can just get out of the door and onto the seat, the bike will pretty much take care of the rest of it for you. All you have to do is keep your feet moving.

And finally, the best part of my commute/training - coming home. To my wife:

Thanks for being cool with this part of my life. I think my doing this helps the other parts of my life get better, I feel good, I do better at work, but the best part of my life, you, couldn't get any better if I wanted it to. Thanks.