When it’s breezy like today, I just have to put my head down and work as hard as I can, telling myself that pedaling into the wind is good training. It reminds me of the repetition of swim team practice when I was a kid. Monotonous workouts payoff well when you had to deliver your best at a swim meet.
Here’s to the Kahala house wife, safely tucked in her Mercedes minivan, delicate little white earbuds assuring her obliviousness to traffic, as she makes her way like a beauty queen to her domestic compound, bicyclists be damned. But how dumb can she be if she managed to marry a guy who can provide all that? I dunno. He deserves her.
And here’s to the guys and gals out for a cruise on their gleaming Harley Davidson machines, about 30 or so who passed us as we were climbing Diamond Head on our way back to Hawaii Kai. A Honolulu Fire Department firetruck came barreling up the road to answer a call at one of the mansions that fronts the Browns surf break. The truck stopped, and the bikers raised their arms to go into a single file formation. John and I were right there in the middle of them, so we got in line.
It was sweet. I’m certain the only guys who can afford Harley Davidsons are over 50 captains of industry who suck in their gut Monday through Friday when they pull duty in the corporate world. On the weekends they wear their shredded leathers, look all bad ass, and require their wahine to wear vests and tank tops when they straddle them in the back. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: These are the nicest people on the road to bicyclists.
Thanks John for getting me out again. My Achilles tendon has been sore since my workout Wednesday morning at 24-Hour Fitness Hawaii Kai. Fortunately, the bike ride doesn’t bug it that much. But I’m ready for this vacation-staycation, even if it’s going to be punctuated with yard work, housework , workouts and relaxation.