The Bicycle Experiment: Off to the Races

Oy vey. My brain and legs are now mush due to the rather huge race weekend that just happened, but it just hurts so good… I was particularly proud of myself yesterday for not only getting back up after wiping out twice on sandy, dusty corners, but still being able to ride up at least a few spots and outsprint one last person at the finish line to give the crowd a good show (despite still finishing in the bottom 50%).

I didn’t go to CX practice tonight. When I posted that earlier this morning, [male teammate] told me that I should at least spin around easy today and have a chocolate milk and a banana afterward so I don’t feel like complete shit tomorrow as well. This is what I get when I don’t do a proper recovery after a race and go flirt with boys instead. Although that was an initial failure because I didn’t talk to 5.0 (who I haven’t seduced… yet? The short version is 1. His legs are perfectly pristine because he’s such a hardcore roadie that I think he not only shaves his legs, but also oils them before every ride… just golden, toned perfection with that crisp line right where the shorts end. It was at the point where if he was leading the group ride I was on, I’d risk wheel buzzing him any time i was right behind him just from staring so much. 2. He pretty much reminds me of a young Paul Newman: nice Jewish boy, sandy hair that curls at the ends at the “possibly needs a haircut, but still looks sexily tousled” stage, and a penchant for cocky smirking in pictures.) even though I kept running into him.

Right before his race today, he was doing circles around the parking lot. Thank fuck my sunglasses were on (although now I have a reverse raccoon mask from being out in the sun all weekend) because I was staring at those well-toned, well-maintained legs of his. We made eye contact and he said “Yo.” and I froze like a deer in headlights and said “No?” (because that was what I thought he said) and then he said “Yo.” and then rode off. I can’t get over the fact that the officials wanted him to autoupgrade to cat 1 in cyclocross to match his cat 1 road. However, he asked for a downgrade, got down to 3 and then downgraded to 4. He was practically sandbagging the race Saturday until he had a mechanical (something involving his front wheel) so he had to run his bike for half of the last lap. 5.0 was in line for 4th, but ended up at 25th. He did a bit better yesterday since he placed 6th. His teammate placed in the top 10 day 2 though, with a busted hand. But yeah, 5.0 (with his glorious legs) reduces me to a shy, awkward 15-year-old girl.

When it came to Pukeface (2.0) and Heartbreaker (so glad I finally came up with a stupid nickname for 6.0), it went a bit better. I ran into Pukeface while refilling water bottles (good god it was hot and dusty there). We chatted a bit and I wished him luck. This random kid (probably around 9-12 years old) rides by and Pukeface asks him how his race went. As I mentioned last night, just watching him interacting with this kid made me have the horrible thought of “he would be a great father if he ever got his head out of his ass.”

During the actual elite men’s race, I stood at one spectator area in the middle of the course where it loops around a few times followed by a runup so I was able to heckle them at two parts of the course without having to run to catch them. I’d yell at them to go harder or faster, make it hurt, “I want you screaming in pain!” etc. “Get it, Heartbreaker!” “Chase him down, Pukeface!” There were some kids there so I couldn’t use my “you fuck like a cat 5” heckle. One woman heckled her husband: “Remember how the baby couldn’t sleep for 9 months? This is easy compared to that!” The kids just shouted “go Daddy!” and were generally adorable. I got to one corner where there weren’t a lot of spectators and shouted “You can flirt with girls at the end of the race!” which got a smile out of 6.0. By the end of it, the guys were covered in dirt and dripping in sweat.

I caught 6.0 at the parking lot first before he was going to spin out his legs and go for a swim to recover. It took everything in me to not just jump him right there and fuck him in/against his car, sweaty, covered in dirt, looking like he was going to pass out/vomit and everything. Besides, I still had to go find my ride home after that. He was glad to have still been in the top 30s and knew that he would beat Pukeface again (“I don’t even know this guy, but we apparently race a lot against each other.”) so my plan to sow a bit of a rivalry is kind of working (even if it’s a bit one-sided). He said he wasn’t going to flirt with any girls tonight since there weren’t any around anymore (everyone always GTFO to avoid traffic… which results in traffic anyway). “Besides, I don’t have game.” I kind of rolled my eyes and said “Of course you do, I mean, you’ve got all of that going on [gestures at the stupid hotness I’m seeing].” I told 6.0 about that weird upgrade situation with 5.0 and 6.0 explained that “cat 1 in road and cat 1 in cyclocross aren’t the same. Since I was a cat 1 in mountain, they wanted to put me in cat 1 for cross, but I decided not to since it would have felt cheesy for me to do that.”

Ugh. 6.0 is such a sweetheart. I don’t want him to turn to the dark side (although he said he was thinking about writing a book based on emails he sent his friend in England “except some asshole named Tucker Max beat me to it). We had a chat where I accused him of being a bad boy, and he was kind of surprised.

6.0: do i have to be bad? i’m not even close to a ‘bad boy.’ i wear cardigans.
Me: You’re not a boy scout, that’s for damn sure.
Him: eagle scout actually. helped with my knots
Me: …and you now have my undivided attention.
Him: haha
Me: but yeah, nice boys don’t come over in the middle of the night, fold me like a paper crane and fuck me well into next Wednesday.
Him: That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to/about me (you were referring to me, right?).
Me: If that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s said to/about you, then you definitely are a bad boy.

After 6.0 went to go spin/cool down, I walked over to where 2.0 was. His teammates were taking down the club tent, so they recruited me to help. 2.0 almost immediately unzipped his skinsuit and took the top part off, leaving it all the way unzipped pretty much revealing at least the centimeter of hair to remind me that he was completely naked under there. Just those abs… those thighs… (and I’m pretty sure I could see a bulge in his kit that wasn’t from his chamois). Once again, it’s probably better that some of his teammates (ones who I weren’t already close friends with) were around, and some of them kind of gave me the “oh no, not another one” side-eye. When it comes to 2.0, if he’s in a group, he’s probably doing most of the talking. He’s also a lot more “on” compared to my one-on-one interactions with him where he’s more subdued and feels more “real.’ I sort of felt awkward standing there after awhile and then peaced out to go find my ride home.

Right now I really am fuzzyheaded. It’s kind of like in Fight Club where Edward Norton says “After a night (weekend) in Fight Club (cyclocross), everything in the real world has the volume turned down.”

[next race] is this Wednesday and 6.0 is racing. However, I did tell [potential 7.0] (who races for the team I always say I would date as a whole because they’re all so hot/such sweethearts… and happens to be the same team that 5.0 is on) that I was up for hanging out/having a beer. I wonder if there’s going to be some sort of romantic/sex comedy situation where I try to juggle flirting with all of them so none of them know about each other.

However, 6.0 and I are on open terms to the point where we both speak frankly about our various conquests. This conversation, for example:

Me: You know, it took everything in me to not try to make out with and/or fuck you in the parking lot yesterday. I guess I’m finally learning something about restraint.
6.0: i’m learning about restraints too. namely using rope to bind bitches in various configurations. i was out of it yesterday
Me: That’s what I figured. If you weren’t out of gas, I would have been disappointed in you. Pukeface told me once “if you can still fuck after a race, you didn’t go hard enough.” I apparently didn’t go hard enough at the [state] time trial series. But yes, I would like to learn more about your brand of restraint. (Although I certainly hope you don’t refer to ladies as bitches seriously.)
6.0: ironically only of course. i’m kinduva feminist
Me: Ironic sexism isn’t a thing any more than ironic racism is. But I’m glad you identify as a feminist. Not a lot of guys do. Certainly not PUAs that I’ve seen.
6.0 “PUAs” ugh
Me: But yeah, you keep telling me you’re not a bad boy, yet you want to tie girls and do wonderfully terrible things to them. I’m experiencing cognitive dissonance.
6.0 haha your brain will make sense of it
Me: Maybe you can help me make sense of it… You’re like the trap I usually set. Guys think I’m generally sweet and possibly naive and unassuming.
6.0 so we play the same game
Me: Next thing they know, they’re walking oddly for a few days.
6.0: i like to wear a cardigan or a sweater vest
Me: As do I
6.0: and then go fuck in an alley
Me: I wear pencil skirts and vintage dresses. Play up the shy thing. We could do a lot of damage if we teamed up.
6.0: go on
Me: Talk attractive an couple into swinging or just play wingman for each other. Or I could just help you break all the furniture in your house by fucking everywhere.
6.0 couple might be a tough sell
Me: Advanced level game then, something to aspire to.
6.0: indeed. i rarely if ever can full girls home as it is. i don’t necessarily need loftier goals
me: Oh, sugar… I don’t get why. Because you are seriously hot.
6.0: that’s sweet of you

Late breaking development: Looks like [Wednesday’s race], 2.0, 6.0 and [potential 7.0] will all be racing against each other in the same race. This could get interesting…