Pedal Strike

I’ve been perfecting my pout lately. Not the confidently sexy one that I may or may not put on with a cute outfit and shoes that aren’t Sidis. The other one. The burning-with-envy-and-bordering-on-temper-tantrums one. The one that belongs on girlfriends trying to guilt their boyfriends into doing buying something for them. The one that belongs on a five year old who doesn’t want to take “no” for an answer.

Holed up in the library, glued in front of a desk and computer, I’m pouting. Because outside, it’s verging on summer, the days stretching out with the sun finally growing reluctant to leave the sky. Cyclists are everywhere, meeting in groups, reconnecting with team mates, and flowing down the streets in packs of colorful Lycra.

And just when I’m getting used to slouching over my notes, outlines, practice exam questions, and too many cups of coffee, pushing bikes out of mind [for now], friends will drop me an email, reminding me of their upcoming summers. And I’m left pouting, again. This time in furious jealousy.

I feel like I’m 10 years old again, standing nervously in my sister’s shadow, her artistic talent far outdoing anything I could offer to my parents. But this time, there’s no lingering bitterness when I’m living vicariously through gorgeous pictures and poignant journal entries. There’s none of that disconnect that comes with knowing that you’re outside the loop, that you’re simply spectating. It’s more a cocktail of envy tinged with excitement; the desire to actually live that, combined with a dash of “I want to be faster” and a generous squeeze of “I need a road bike, like right now.”

Not that I’d ever be able to keep up with the gentlemen of Rapha [which is probably a good thing as I’m far from the photogenic creatures they’ve managed to find to fill their stables]. Which is more reason to pout…if it weren’t for the Internet, blogs, and my stalkerish mouse hovering over this particular bookmarked page. Instead, I can’t resist a smile as I draw my laptop closer, tuck a leg underneath me and pretend I’m coasting effortlessly on a team-issue Rapha bike through Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas…

I’ve got one more exam before a summer of sweating on a single-speed. One more furious dash before I can collapse into the shower, steamy and starving after a decent ride, anticipating sleep only so I can do it all over again. And between the pedaling and stretching, I know I’ll find time to quietly peek at the boys of summer men of Rapha.

…And, yeah, I feel the penis envy coming on already.

Tags:   pout · rapha · road bikes · summer · sweaty3 Comments