Why Do I Do These Things?

Channeling my inner Joe Abercrombie today to ask, “Why do I do these things?”

Riding up the Hudson Greenway yesterday, a guy jumps on my wheel and drafts for maybe a mile. I pulled over, so he could come around, but he just sat there, sucking my draft. Eventually, I pulled up and turned to see a guy about my own age, fully kitted out, riding a new-looking racing bike.

“Come on, guy. Really?” I ask. “I’m 53, riding a folding bike, wearing a backpack.”

Dude got immediately defensive. “I’m 54!”

“You’re not wearing a backpack, and you’re on a racing bike. It’s cowardly.”

Dude gives me a hand gesture, and it’s on. Lock S-Foils in Attack Position & start your run. This is happening. 

The Hudson Greenway

I gotta say at this point that there was no way I could win this race. I didn’t have the bike or nearly enough gears. It was like racing a corvette in my daughter’s 2017 Subaru Impreza. If this dude had ANY talent, he was gonna take the thing eventually.

But friends, it took him a full mile to drop me, and even then, I thought I had him for a good half-minute there. Got my heart rate all the way up to Ludicrous Speed, and afterwards I started coughing my head off, but that was almost awesome.

So I ask you, Dear Reader:

We do I do these things?