Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Cyclists Don’t Play Bingo

I AM going to Yoga at 11:30am. I am NOT wearing a dress. I am NOT 60. So went the morning I surprised my wife on her birthday by throwing a brunch with all her friends. I had planned this brunch for three weeks, involved just about every one of her closest friends, sent out the E-vite to her closest gal pals I thought could attend, created a mushy gushy video to stir the emotions, bought her gifts at he soon to be favorite store-Nordstrom, had Ace of Cakes style cupcakes crafted and didn’t blog for an entire week. When I sprung the surprise, I seriously think she was two seconds away from tossing my bike, a duffle bag of clothes, and my custom confections on the front lawn.

As you can see, she is a cyclist. Since it was raining, Yoga took the place of her Saturday morning ride, which was upsetting enough. There is not a rainy day, a stressful workweek or a single a life event that can put the nix on a cyclist’s Saturday ride. Just the other day a friend of mine did a Cyclocross race on the same afternoon they had planned a family Christmas card photo shoot. Even I went for a ride the day before my mom’s retirement party. We rode on our honeymoon. Here I was trying to tell the woman who went mountain biking on a 33 degree morning before her cousin’s wedding in Wisconsin she would have to skip exercising on her birthday weekend. That’s like trying to stop a ferocious charging African Lion from chowing down on a wounded Wildebeest.

Mistake number two: Cyclists don’t do formal wear. In fact there is a whole chart describing what minimal level of formality is absolutely necessary for each event. It kind of looks like this:


Being in the Bridal Party: Dress or Jacket & Tie

Anything Else: Nice jeans.


Spouse: Dress or Jacket & Tie

Anything Else: Nice jeans.


Parents Present: Dress or Jacket & Tie

No Parents: Nice jeans.

Please note that a brunch with friends isn’t even on the formal attire list. Needless to say, out of the 10 girls that attended, only one wore a dress. Amazingly, she was a cyclist. Consequently, I could practically see her skin crawl when she noticed all the other girls wearing…nice jeans. I apologized profusely for my stupidity of even thinking that a bunch of cyclists would get dressed up for anything else besides the death of a spouse, being in a bridal party or attending a family event with their parents.

Third mistake: cyclists don’t do things that sound like they’re for old people. In fact, anything that reminds a cyclist that they could even be remotely close to the end of their life is avoided with the same fear as riding off a 200 foot cliff. There is a reason they don’t advertise cruises in cycling magazines. Unless there is beer involved and a ride has taken place, cyclists don’t do bingo. There’s a reason Masters races are called Masters races and not “you’re too old to compete with the regular younger guys category so we’ll call you Masters to make it sound like you’ve mastered this cycling thing” category. Seriously, the mailman better get ready to run the day he drops a social security check in my mailbox. Brunch? What the hell was I thinking?

Somehow she obliged. She wore nice jeans. I promised we could ride in the afternoon and reasoned that it wasn’t really a brunch but more of a lunch with friends with cupcakes and presents involved. I don’t think we spoke in the car. The restaurant door swung open. Inside were all her friends, except one, wearing nice jeans. She melted into the conversation. While nothing takes the place of a Saturday morning ride, being with your friends, eating devilishly delicious cupcakes, and opening presents is certainly a close 2nd.

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