I cracked the 100km barrier this week, figuring I did about 25kms a day. Feeling pretty good about that, and hopefully I can keep from slacking off.
This morning though, I rode early, leaving the house around 7:30 a.m.. That meant I got to ride with Cyclists. Now I'm not a Cyclist, I'm just a pudgy guy on a bike. That means I can usually overtake helmetless blondes on their trendy cruiser bikes and the elderly, but always get passed by the serious dudes. You know the type, in the closet: four Hugo Boss Suits, three popped-collar polo shirts and two pairs of $300 jeans, everything else spandex.
Not that I'm not getting passed by regular people too, it's just the BroCylists that really annoy me. I passed two coming the other way on English Bay and overheard this:
BroCyclist #1: "Dude, I f***ing love bananas."
BroCyclist #2: "Yeah Dude, they're like jam-packed with vitamins and sh**."
Luckily, if their seats are anything like mine, they'll have been infertile for years.
No comments:
Post a Comment