So, it has been a while since my last post. Apologies to all two of my followers, and thanks to the one who kicked me in the butt enough to actually get me to write. Yay fiancee! The bright side is that I have plenty of stories by now!
Cycling is an interesting sport... activity... thing. If you think about it, it's not an inherently social activity. I mean, you can ride your bike, cycle as much as you want, and never make eye contact with anyone else riding a bike and still be a cyclist. Or a bike rider, but that leads to confusion about riding motorcycles and frankly, I wear Lycra, not leather. Lycra (just say that out loud for a moment. There. Feel that texture of the word in your mouth). I figured out, a while ago, the difference between riding a bike and cycling. It all boils down to Lycra. If you take yourself so seriously that you ride essentially naked in public by wearing Lycra, then you're a cyclist (Cyclist: give that a capital "c"). If you wanna look good and feel comfortable and wear actual clothing, then you're bicycle-riding.
[I decided to split where I was going with this into two posts, so below I tell you a story and some other time you'll get my overarching and frankly esoteric point. Deal.]
So I was riding the Little Rock River Trail a while ago on an amazingly warm winter day. Like seventy, seriously. The total loop is about twenty miles and the north side of the trail is quite nice. Lots of good scenery, cliffs, a few gentle hills and few homeless people. It's nice, really; not as nice as all the advertisements would make you think (see the back of the latest Bicycling Magazine). The catch with doing the whole loop, though, is that you go through downtown Little Rock. It's not like you're going through gang territory (although you may), but you are nonetheless going through some incredibly sketchy territory.
Abandoned warehouses. Underneath overpasses. Dried out culverts and (dear God!) homeless people. And you're wearing Lycra. Complete strangers look and well, they can see your junk completely and thoroughly, and you tie up traffic because you've only got the two wheels.
And I ran over glass and got a slow flat, so I don't recommend the south side.
But the north? Fantastic. If you get a flat, there's a bike rental place with a really friendly dog and a guy who'll offer all the help you'll need.
But you'll sit there in your Lycra, pumping your tire up yourself, with your spare, when an old guy comes up and (remember that you're in Lycra, now) assumes you know what the hell you're talking about when it comes to biking -- I mean, Cycling.
Ugh, I've been going on for a while, so I think I'll shut up for now. See y'all in a bit!
Cycling is an interesting sport... activity... thing. If you think about it, it's not an inherently social activity. I mean, you can ride your bike, cycle as much as you want, and never make eye contact with anyone else riding a bike and still be a cyclist. Or a bike rider, but that leads to confusion about riding motorcycles and frankly, I wear Lycra, not leather. Lycra (just say that out loud for a moment. There. Feel that texture of the word in your mouth). I figured out, a while ago, the difference between riding a bike and cycling. It all boils down to Lycra. If you take yourself so seriously that you ride essentially naked in public by wearing Lycra, then you're a cyclist (Cyclist: give that a capital "c"). If you wanna look good and feel comfortable and wear actual clothing, then you're bicycle-riding.
[I decided to split where I was going with this into two posts, so below I tell you a story and some other time you'll get my overarching and frankly esoteric point. Deal.]
So I was riding the Little Rock River Trail a while ago on an amazingly warm winter day. Like seventy, seriously. The total loop is about twenty miles and the north side of the trail is quite nice. Lots of good scenery, cliffs, a few gentle hills and few homeless people. It's nice, really; not as nice as all the advertisements would make you think (see the back of the latest Bicycling Magazine). The catch with doing the whole loop, though, is that you go through downtown Little Rock. It's not like you're going through gang territory (although you may), but you are nonetheless going through some incredibly sketchy territory.
Abandoned warehouses. Underneath overpasses. Dried out culverts and (dear God!) homeless people. And you're wearing Lycra. Complete strangers look and well, they can see your junk completely and thoroughly, and you tie up traffic because you've only got the two wheels.
And I ran over glass and got a slow flat, so I don't recommend the south side.
But the north? Fantastic. If you get a flat, there's a bike rental place with a really friendly dog and a guy who'll offer all the help you'll need.
But you'll sit there in your Lycra, pumping your tire up yourself, with your spare, when an old guy comes up and (remember that you're in Lycra, now) assumes you know what the hell you're talking about when it comes to biking -- I mean, Cycling.
Ugh, I've been going on for a while, so I think I'll shut up for now. See y'all in a bit!
