Conversations
When I’m out for a long ride, I stop to go to the bathroom and refill my bottles every couple of hours or so, usually at gas stations. People often ask what I’m up to during these stops, and often seem genuinely interested (perhaps just appalled?!) when I rattle off some insanely large number of miles. But occasionally I get a strange response that makes it clear that the person has no grasp of what I just said–no inkling that it’s a bit unusual to ride a bicycle, oh, say, 90 miles. I had two of these conversations day before yesterday, and I just wanted to document them before I forget–both kept me chuckling as I headed on down the road.
(More life updates–and excuses for lack of blogging–later.)
First conversation (at my first gas station stop, about 30 miles into the ride):
Man: So how far you ridin’ today?
Me: 125 miles.
Man: You don’t say. You do that every day?
Me: Ummm, no. Just sometimes.
Man: Ah. You in the service?
Me: (wearing a purple and white jersey; definitely the military desert camo look) Nope.
Man: So what’d you do this for? Just your own exercise?
Me: Yep. (Big grin–trying to look non-threatening at this point) It’s lots of fun.
Man: Hunh.
Pause.
Man: Hey–I know who you are. You’re on TV.
Me: Umm, no, not me.
Man: Yeah, you are! I knowed it when I saw you; I thought, that’s my favorite bicycle woman I like to watch on TV.
At this point I give up on responding, and just go with smiling and nodding. Then I get on the bike and beat a hasty retreat.
Later in the same ride (much, much later), I’m in a different gas station.
Woman at the cash register: How far did you ride today?
Me: Well, I’ve been 110 miles so far. I’m getting kind of tired, but I’m almost home.
Woman: Yeah? Where d’you live?
Me: Cary. (for the record, my house is exactly 15 miles away, nearly a straight shot.)
Woman: Cary? You rode from Cary to here on a bicycle?! No way!
Me: Umm, I’ve been 110 miles today. I started in Cary, but I’ve also been to Morrisville, Apex, Holly Springs, Angier, and this is my second pass through Fuquay.
Woman: I can’t believe you rode all the way from Cary. Hey, isn’t Morrisville like, near Durham or something?
Me: Well, yeah, sort of.
Woman: I can’t hardly drive to Durham but it makes me tired. And you rode a bicycle?
Me: You could drive from here to Durham and back again–twice–in 110 miles.
Woman: Naw! Get out!
So I did.
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