It's Good to Have Goals

I am not an especially well-organized person (as evidenced by conditions in our linen closet).  Housekeeping is not (and I mean NOT AT ALL) my strong suit.  But I do have some random idiosyncracies, most having to do with my own physical comfort.  For instance, I need to get into a neat, clean bed at night.  I get up every morning and make the bed, so that it will be nice and tidy later when I’m ready to crawl in and read or knit or pass out from exhaustion.

The thing I cannot abide, above all, is crumbs in the bed.  We’re talking no-wire-hangers level of intolerance.  Everything else in the house can go completely to pot, and as long as my bed is tidy and non-crumby, I don’t care.  But if I find a single cracker crumb or sugar crystal or grain of salt in my sheets, heads will roll.

Luckily, the people who live in my house know this about me.  Mother’s Day has never involved breakfast in bed–I’d freak out, and insist on eating it on the floor, or in the bathtub or something.  They’re so great–they humor me, and let me make my own breakfast, or even better, some years, I get to make mine and theirs. Mostly, we don’t get especially wound up about Mother’s Day, or any other Hallmark kind of holiday.

But there are exceptions, and this year was one of those.  I actually got several Mother’s Day gifts, all of which spoke directly to who I am.  A new running shirt, printed with the words “Will Run for Chocolate.”  A new (and very high-end; much nicer than I would ever buy for myself) cycling jersey–pink and white and black–soooo cute.  And three very large baking potatoes.  See?  My people totally get me.  Aren’t they great??

Anyway, I wore the new bike jersey the other day, just out for a short spin, not far from home.  I looked seriously sharp, too:  black shorts, pink/white/black jersey, pink headband, pink and silver gloves, pink and white socks, pink watch.  I mean, I looked like I was dressed up in some kind of team kit.  I headed out the door, all hopped-up on my own cuteness.

And then–because you know there’s always an “and then,” right?–I got to the first traffic light, and stopped, of course.  Popped my left cleat off the pedal, like I always do, and stood with one foot on the ground, one still clipped in.  Nothing unusual.  Just waiting for the light to change.  Guy comes up behind me on his bike, pulls into the lane next to me, and does this:*

He stops at the traffic light and BALANCES WITH BOTH FEET STILL ON THE PEDALS. Skinny tires, just like mine.  No uber-cool outfit, though.  Ratty old gym shorts and a t-shirt.

Wait, seriously?  My uber-cool outfit was being bested by a guy who didn’t even bother to wear proper cycling shorts?  No way!

Doesn’t he know it’s all about the outfit?

Oh, wait, maybe it’s not.

I think I have a new goal:  I need to learn how to do a trackstand.  Who says an old dog can’t learn new tricks?

*That wasn’t him.  As a matter of fact, I didn’t even take that photo.  Thank you, Flickr.