Body By Bicycle


I wore tights today.  I wasn’t thinking much about it, just put on what was available to wear, it’s laundry day (tonight’s my last night at Reno’s so I wanted to make sure I got a load of laundry in before my next move) and I did not have any clean jeans I wanted to wear into work.

Alas, I am down to two pairs of tights.  It’s time to get more, and some fleece lined ones at that.  I just discovered a big run in the two of the ones I have been wearing.  They have been good troopers–even made it back from not one, but two tours of Burning Man.

Suffice to say, it was a chilly day out there on my bicycle.  But my legs got a work out.  I ran an errand on my bike today for the store, I also got up early and went shopping at Rainbow for a few staples, so I used the leg muscles a little more than I do on an average day, but really, I blame the tights–

hot pink.  and the short black dress.  Not super short, but just short enough.  So, what I’m saying is that the legs were noticeable today and when I see my legs in mirror I myself ogle them a little.  They are pretty rocking legs.  I have hamstrings that are solid and defined, as are my calves, but it is always my thighs that I go to when I see my legs bare to the world–look at those muscles.


Body by bicycle.

I may not be riding up and down Nob Hill at the moment, but I am still bike commuting and I am riding up and down Potrero Hill.  Not to the top, thank god, but I’m getting in a decent little climb every night when I come back on 23rd street.  I remember when I was incapable of riding much past General on my old commuter bike.  It was a slow, heavy, fat tired hybrid.

I had walked into Pedal Revolution and said, “I don’t care about hip slick and cool.  I want something that will get me from point A to point B and is comfortable.”  I got the hybrid.  Which I regretted in about two weeks as it started to need constant repairs and tweaks as I rode pretty hard right from the get go.  By the time I had gotten rid of the bike, which is now rusting quietly on Reno’s back porch (this is where all hybrid’s go to die–the back porch of a family with a small child that wants a slow, heavy, stolid bicycle to put a child seat on to occasionally take their toddler to the park on or do Sunday Streets with), I could have bought four hybrids, or one really nice bicycle which would have lasted me indefinitely.

Lesson well learned.

I will end up paying more in the long run for a cheap bike.  Get the good one and just do maintenance, ends up being much cheaper and you have a nicer riding experience.  Problem with me is, you could not have told me that when I got that first bike. I really thought spending $450 on a bike was extraordinary.  Now I know much better.

I wouldn’t bat an eye at paying $1500 for a decent road bike.  Not at all.

Good thing I get a discount at work!

So, in tights, end of day, unlocking bicycle and getting ready to step into my clipless and ride off into the night to meet Maitreaya (!) at Muddy Waters on 24th and Valencia.  I had gotten a text from her about an hour and a half before the shop closed and she was in town and took a stab in the dark to see if I was around.  I hadn’t seen her in years, three?  Three and a half?  God, maybe even four, so I was absolutely down to have my plans changed up.  Although I do rue not seeing Joan as I was supposed to hook up with her this evening.

Nevertheless, I am ready to get the legs moving as it is cold out there, thank god I just realized there’s a space heater up here in the attic, it has been going full blast since I walked up to my chilly abode this evening.  I get into the bicycle lane on Valencia and am blown by a cloud of nasty exhaust coming from a tow truck.  I couldn’t decide whether or not to save the lungs and hang back a little or get closer and report the licence plate for smog, it was seriously bad.  BAD.

A fellow cyclist on a Specialized was debating the same thing, and as it turned out, not so discreetly checking out my hot pink clad legs.  And as I find out a block or two later, my bum.  He verbalized, not too inelegantly or I would have made a turn off early, the splendid nature of my gams.  And how were they so achieved?

Bicycle.  I ride a lot.  Every day, twice a day, just like thousands of other people in the city.  Probably not all of them wear fancy pants tights however.  Or short black dresses when they ride.  I ride in whatever strikes my fancy.  There was a time when I felt uncomfortable riding in dresses or short skirts, but after having done the AIDS LifeCycle ride and been in form-fitting bicycle shorts and jersey’s, nothing bothers me.

Andrew once said to me while on a training ride in Marin that it was like riding naked anyhow, and really, it kind of is.

I don’t know how much more of the commentary I would have put up with, it was getting to be a little too obvious, checking out my ass, can’t stop that, but dropping back more than once to do so, kind of pushing it there dude.  I appreciated the compliments, and didn’t flirt back and dropped over to the side of the road when my destination was in sight.

Only to be engaged in another “bicycling” conversation as I was locking up my bike to the post.  This time about my cycling shoes.

Really ladies, if you are interested in a certain kind of guy (slightly geeky, but cute, moderately shoe gazing, borderline hipster, mid twenties with beard and curly tousled hair or the hard-core bike messenger tattooed guy sporting a Chrome bag and an attitude) get yourself a pair of SiDi bicycle shoes and learn how to ride clipless, worth the investment.

Also helps sculpt legs.

But so does hill climbing.

And yup, he too was checking out the tights.

Which round about leads back to end of day at the shop.  Where I have been left alone with one mechanic to hold down the fort.  GM’s well deserved day off (thank god I am no longer a gm, the days of working six days a week are done for me!), and a relatively slow day, led to many people ducking out early.  I didn’t mind and as the last employee was leaving a gentleman I had not seen in years, probably four?  Walked into the shop.

We caught up, shot the shit, and related what the other was doing as far as doing the deal was concerned.  It was good to see him, and he re-iterated it was good to see me.

Then he dropped the “f-bomb” on me.

He stopped by the door turned around and looked me up and down, “I got to say it, you look really foxy”.

I chuckled, spouted off my tag line, shrugged a little, said something about a bike and what it will do for you, and smiled.

“Well, to repeat, you are lookin’ foxy and now that I know you’re working here, I’ll definitely be dropping by more often”.  Then he wandered off into the night.  Well, ok then.

Funny how my brain works, I had not thought I was looking all that hot today, my hair was not doing what I had discussed with it (there are some draw backs to bike commuting–funky hair apres helmet) and the “radio silence” from Mister West Oakland (am so proud of myself, I have not texted or called!  I will continue to be uncomfortable and let him make the next contact. We’re confirmed for Saturday, it may not be until Saturday that I hear from him.  Ugh.), who I know is busy, but–kind of led me down the not feeling so hot today.

Feelings, sing it with me.

I apparently was wrong.  I blame the hot pink tights and the body by bicycle.

I will be investing in some more pairs very soon, be on the look for me next laundry day.

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One Response to “Body By Bicycle”

  1. JC Jones Says:

    You gotta stop blogging about your inner thoughts and insecurities on a public level if you expect intimacy and respect from a romantic partner. I don’t know if your love interest has seen your ramblings but I cannot imagine its doing much for his interest level.

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