Its Funny the People You Meet...
...When you're out on your bicycle.
Recently I was riding in the evening, it was almost dark, and I got caught at a traffic light near a casino. That's where I met K.T. He looked about 25, covered with gold jewelry, his hat sitting crooked on his head, and his pants proudly sagging so his underwear was clearly visible. He must have weighed over 350 pounds. I asked him if he had been to the casino. He said, "Yeah, I lost a hundred bucks." He really didn't look like he could afford it, but I wasn't going to give him any crap about it. I said, "well if it makes you feel better, I just dropped $500 on these new wheels." He laughed and said that we all have our vices. His is blackjack, mine is cycling. Of course, I didn't mention that in six months, I'd still have my new wheels, and he would still be broke.
Last week I was riding in the early evening, and I met Steve. Steve was riding too. Or, at least when I met him, he was sitting on the ground with a flat tire and a confused look about him. "You need any help?" I asked. "Na, I got it. Well, I think, maybe...uh...YEAH, I could use a little help," he replied. So I pulled over, and gave him a hand. Nice guy, even if he doesn't remember how to change a flat on a bike. I got tired of telling him how to do it--it was taking too long, and Lisa had supper waiting. So I finally just did it for him, and was on my way in a couple of minutes. Lots of people have helped me change flats, so it is always good to pay it forward. He is cross-training, preparing to run a marathon in Big Sur, California. His son is in the military in Fresno, so he's going to stay with him while he's out there running. Knock it out, Steve.
A few days later I met Brian. I had just gotten back from a little 25 mile spin, and was at the parking lot loading up my bike. Brian walked up wearing a shirt and tie, looking a little lost. "Hey, where's this trail go?" I looked at him with a confused expression, not sure how to answer that. "Well, let's see...if you go that way, you'll end up in Sand Springs. That way and you'll be in Skiatook, and that direction will take you to Jenks and then Broken Arrow." He looked back at me like I was speaking a foreign language. "I'm new in town--my plane just got here from Atlanta, and I saw this trail and wondered where it went." I told him that Tulsa has 200 miles of paved bike trails that will take you just about anywhere you want to go. He got real excited, like his job transfer from Atlanta to Tulsa suddenly didn't suck nearly as bad as he thought it was going to. He asked, "well, if I walk that way, where will it take me?" I said, "walk it, and you'll find out." He did.
Saturday I was out with the Free Wheel training group, and I met Wayne. We were doing 40 miles, and we were on the last five mile stretch, and the wind had turned, and I was tired and hoping for someone to chat with. That's where Wayne came in. He was setting a really comfortable pace, so I just jumped in and hung on for a while. Wayne looked like everybody else out there--spandex, a helmet and some glasses. He was lean, and looked like he was in exceptional shape. He told me he had taken thirty pounds off during the winter. I asked him how he did it. "South Beach Diet," he said. Good for him. He made some mention of his age, and so I asked him how old he was. "Eighty-one." I about fell off my bike. He was setting a great pace, at the end of a forty mile bike ride that was plenty hilly, and he is eighty-one years old. Needless to say, I was impressed. Wayne said he tells his son that he is going to die at age 100, on the seat of that bicycle. I hope you live to ride that thing a lot longer than that, Wayne. He told me about going to World War II, when it was about over. And how he had gotten back from the war, and started in at OSU when he got called back. This time he would be stationed in Arkansas. That's gotta be better than Guam, right? I work with seniors every day, and when I talk about the need for them to make their money last until they are 100 years old, most of them laugh. "I'm not living to be a hundred," most of them say. They're probably right. Wayne's going to make it to 100, or he is going to have a blast trying.
You never know who you're going to meet on your bicycle.
Recently I was riding in the evening, it was almost dark, and I got caught at a traffic light near a casino. That's where I met K.T. He looked about 25, covered with gold jewelry, his hat sitting crooked on his head, and his pants proudly sagging so his underwear was clearly visible. He must have weighed over 350 pounds. I asked him if he had been to the casino. He said, "Yeah, I lost a hundred bucks." He really didn't look like he could afford it, but I wasn't going to give him any crap about it. I said, "well if it makes you feel better, I just dropped $500 on these new wheels." He laughed and said that we all have our vices. His is blackjack, mine is cycling. Of course, I didn't mention that in six months, I'd still have my new wheels, and he would still be broke.
Last week I was riding in the early evening, and I met Steve. Steve was riding too. Or, at least when I met him, he was sitting on the ground with a flat tire and a confused look about him. "You need any help?" I asked. "Na, I got it. Well, I think, maybe...uh...YEAH, I could use a little help," he replied. So I pulled over, and gave him a hand. Nice guy, even if he doesn't remember how to change a flat on a bike. I got tired of telling him how to do it--it was taking too long, and Lisa had supper waiting. So I finally just did it for him, and was on my way in a couple of minutes. Lots of people have helped me change flats, so it is always good to pay it forward. He is cross-training, preparing to run a marathon in Big Sur, California. His son is in the military in Fresno, so he's going to stay with him while he's out there running. Knock it out, Steve.
A few days later I met Brian. I had just gotten back from a little 25 mile spin, and was at the parking lot loading up my bike. Brian walked up wearing a shirt and tie, looking a little lost. "Hey, where's this trail go?" I looked at him with a confused expression, not sure how to answer that. "Well, let's see...if you go that way, you'll end up in Sand Springs. That way and you'll be in Skiatook, and that direction will take you to Jenks and then Broken Arrow." He looked back at me like I was speaking a foreign language. "I'm new in town--my plane just got here from Atlanta, and I saw this trail and wondered where it went." I told him that Tulsa has 200 miles of paved bike trails that will take you just about anywhere you want to go. He got real excited, like his job transfer from Atlanta to Tulsa suddenly didn't suck nearly as bad as he thought it was going to. He asked, "well, if I walk that way, where will it take me?" I said, "walk it, and you'll find out." He did.
Saturday I was out with the Free Wheel training group, and I met Wayne. We were doing 40 miles, and we were on the last five mile stretch, and the wind had turned, and I was tired and hoping for someone to chat with. That's where Wayne came in. He was setting a really comfortable pace, so I just jumped in and hung on for a while. Wayne looked like everybody else out there--spandex, a helmet and some glasses. He was lean, and looked like he was in exceptional shape. He told me he had taken thirty pounds off during the winter. I asked him how he did it. "South Beach Diet," he said. Good for him. He made some mention of his age, and so I asked him how old he was. "Eighty-one." I about fell off my bike. He was setting a great pace, at the end of a forty mile bike ride that was plenty hilly, and he is eighty-one years old. Needless to say, I was impressed. Wayne said he tells his son that he is going to die at age 100, on the seat of that bicycle. I hope you live to ride that thing a lot longer than that, Wayne. He told me about going to World War II, when it was about over. And how he had gotten back from the war, and started in at OSU when he got called back. This time he would be stationed in Arkansas. That's gotta be better than Guam, right? I work with seniors every day, and when I talk about the need for them to make their money last until they are 100 years old, most of them laugh. "I'm not living to be a hundred," most of them say. They're probably right. Wayne's going to make it to 100, or he is going to have a blast trying.
You never know who you're going to meet on your bicycle.
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