Get in on the John

Woah! Almost didn't make it today! So I guess this will have to be a little quick and dirty; no pretty videos and pictures today! Sorry. *Poutty face*

I came home today to find the sassy little strawberry blonde tornado of activity that is my 10 year old cousin Katie waiting for me in my grandmothers computer room. I was mildly surprised that she was here because Katie lives pretty far away, in the neighboring state of Missouri; but then she sometimes visits her sister who lives here in state, and her other grandma who lives up the road, so naturally she pops up every once in a long while. She immediatly told me that she had something waiting for me in a bag in the basement, and that I was to go there and wait for her. In no mood to argue, I went downstairs, and she plopped into my hand one of those little joystick boxes which connects directly to the TV and lets you play old coin op games like pacman and dig dug on it, and then she sat me down and told me I could play it while she went out with grandma and grandpa to dinner.

Saying it dry like that doesn't do justice to my cousin. She bristles with energy and is constantly chattering and exclaming and giggling and reminding you what you should do; it somewhat tires my inner introvert. But as I slumped onto the couch and let the game fall from my fingers, my fatigue had nothing to do with my rambunctious cousin.

Oh no, the cause of this effect was an aged cyclist I encountered during my bike ride home from work. We crossed paths at the first 4-way street light on my daily journey, and after the "Walk" sign told us it was safe to cross, screaming its high-pitched whine so that the blind drivers will know when the light is green, I continued riding on the sidewalk, which rose up on a hill over the street level, while he chose to ride on the side of the actual street.

This "riding bikes on the street" thing has never really flown with me, growing up in Guinea as I have; over there the only traffic laws we had were developed by Sir Issac Newton, and concerned mainly inertia, mass, and relative velocities of the bodies in movement. To put it otherwise, if it's bigger and faster than you, then get the heck out of the way.

So it was with annoyance that I watched him pull out in front of me, a shock of white hair visible through the holes of his helmet, as I strained to climb this little hill. I am used to being the fastest man-powered vehicle in sight on my daily commute to work and back, and now I was getting passed by some old guy who was shamefully cheating by biking where I dared not. I pedaled harder, crested the hill, and sped down the other side, and when my built up speed took me past him I thought: "Haha old man, youthful vigor triumphs once again over ripened wisdom!", and thought no more of it, making my way up the grueling big hill and across a couple more intersections.

There is a part on my daily commute where the sidewalk switches in the middle of the street from one side of the road to the other, and then back again to the first side of the road a couple hundred feet later. It is kind of annoying to wait for a break in the cars so that you can cross the street, walk a little ways, then wait again to cross back, so I usually just walk my bike through the grass and stick to the one side of the street. So there I was, walking my bike along when ZOOM the old dude whips past me on the road to my left.

"Oh heck no." I muttered under my breath, getting back on my bike and starting to pedal painfully over the thick and hilly grass. The guy was nowhere around the last couple streets I stopped at, and I had figured I was miles ahead, so where did he come from? My breath was a little ragged by the time I reached the sidewalk, and my thighs were beginning to burn, but this time it was personal. I switched it into high gear and pedaled hard even though the ground was sloping downward, and I managed to pass him again as he coasted leasurely down the hill.

All was right with the world once again, and I vowed that "Niel Armstrong" over there had outdone me for the last time. I pedaled hard up the next hill and down it, building up breakneck speed yet still pedaling harder, harder. I swear I left the ground when I hit the bump in the sidewalk at the bottom, and then flew suicidally through the next intersection, only to be forced to screech to a stop at the four lane highway a ways beyond. I pushed the crosswalk button and panted while I fanned myself with my hand and wiped the sweat from my eyes. I laughed at myself for being such an idiot and going through such lengths for some pitiful part of my ego. That guy was probably all the way back there wondering why that kid who passed him was trying so hard, if he had noticed me at all.

The white "Walk" light lit up and buzzed it's merry tune, and I wearily put my feet back on my pedals and pushed...
and that darn old guy flies past me and zips through the intersection.

"What the... Get the heck back here!" I thought, and immediatly forgetting my revelation of moments before I began to pedal like my bike was hooked up and powering my own Mother's life support machine. Harder, harder, faster, faster, sweat dripping in my eyes and obscuring my vision, still he was in front of me, so far in front of me, must... catch... up...

And then he turned onto a side street and just like that our race was over. Or rather, my race was over. I don't think during that whole time he even suspected that someone was killing himself to beat him; I don't think he even broke a sweat.

I mentally tipped my cap in his direction as I rode past his street, recognizing his clear victory. At least I wasn't a total loser in this affair.

I mean, he gave me something to write about in my blog, right?