I’m not offended at all. You know me. Most of the time I’m hooked up to a damn chest strap and a stinking heart monitor trying to eek out another mph because I have this insane idea that triathlons are a fun hobby. Out there most days I’m sweating like a barnyard animal and wheezing like I’ve been smoking my entire life. Every now and then I love to put on girl clothes and a ridiculous pair of heels to see if I can manage to ride my bike in another way. I work hard, and I play just as hard but with a whimsical, self-deprecating, “isn’t this the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen on a bike” way.
It would be soooo easy to make my bikes too serious. And what is the fun in that?
Right now I’ve got 300 battery operated lights that I’m trying to attach to a dress for the next Diamond Derby. It’s pure fun and silliness. Otherwise I’m just staring at another six weeks of tedious swim-run-bike-swim-run-bike yuck.