wurple.net

So we’re about halfway through the month and I’m pretty much on track to hit my 1,000km target. Unlike last year when I did this, I’m not feeling completely toasted at this point in the month. In fact, it feels like business-as-usual with normal commutes and what not. I wonder if this means I’m just generally getting stronger.

Anyway, with the whole PB up 1 in 20 the other weekend, I’m suddenly itching to blast it again. In fact, it’s got to the point where I can actually count on one hand the number of times I’ve gone MTBing in the last month. The other day I also caught myself oohing-and-ahhing over the Orca that Fatty is raffling off.

Am I becoming roadie scum again?

It appears that I’ve come full circle somewhat, from starting out as a roadie, becoming a serious commuter type, doing the whole fixie thing for a while, then a (not-so)-hairy-legged-MTBer and now, back to being a roadie.

Then again… maybe it doesn’t matter what I decide to focus on… :)

So there’s this guy who I always see on the train. A fellow multi-modal commuter. Fluoro yellow jacket. Pretty basic helmet. Very standard recreational MTB. The one thing that always confused me though was bike shoes and flat pedals. Nevermind. He has the look of a REAL commuter.

The one thing I always wondered was what this guy thought of me and my varied bikes with carbon fibre bits and shiny chrome wheels. The guy must think I’m nuts having so many bikes.

Or so I thought.

Pootling home the other day, I hear the distinct *ZZZZZZZZZZZZ* of a Campagnolo freewheel from behind me. I’m not really in the mood or on the right bike for a game, so I ignore it. Soon after there’s a flash of colour beside me and a bloke on a Pinarello whips past me in team kit.

Hey, that’s the guy on I see in the mornings.

Ah a fellow bike nut.

I’m not alone.

One of the things I enjoy about riding a bike is that you can generally strike up a conversation with anyone around you any time you feel like it. For the most part, because you’re not trapped inside 1.5 tonnes of steel, it’s actually possible to talk to the people around you. Even if it’s just as simple as a nod and a smile to the person you’re next to at the lights, it’s all good stuff.

But you know what, I don’t like are snobby people. Some folks don’t even look at you, so heck it’s not actually possible to smile and chat. *shrugs* okay. Up to them. The other day however, I pulled up at the lights where a bloke on flashy Italian carbon wonderbike and team kit was waiting.

He looked at me, looked at the bike (the flat bar).

I smiled and nodded.

He turned away without even flinching.

Oh like that is it?

Hulk angry!

As the lights changed and Mr Roadie wound it up to full pace, I tucked in behind him and saved myself. Hiding in someone’s slipstream is not something I often do on the commute, but I was on a little mission. We blasted along Johnston Street at a decent pace and approached Studley Park Rd hill. As we approached, I clicked over to 6th gear (3rd or 4th gear would be my normal one up the hill), pulled out from behind him and slingshotted past and up the hill, making it a point to stay seated and look as casual as possible.

Did Mr Roady like this?

Oh no.

*click* *click* in that way that gears click over when under load.

I watched the shadow on the ground. He was up and out of the saddle and chasing. I maintained my composure and kept pushing. My legs were rather burning at this pint, but I’d put it on the line, so I couldn’t back down now. I also didn’t want to look back because it would make it look like I actually cared. Instead, I sat up and continued pushing up the hill and rode no handed for a few minutes, pretending to stretch my back while glancing backwards.

He was gone. Long gone. He was Way back down the hill and turned off to Yarra Boulevard. Thank goodness. I was gone too. Absolutely dead. Hah. *click* back down to an easy gear to spin my way up the rest of the hill.

I’m such a child.