Gross stuff about bicycle riding; pasta with caviar

@postaday 121; #postaday2011

Check my Garmin stats.

I knew I forgot something this morning. Turned around about five minutes into my ride to get my Garmin heart-rate monitor strap. I’m glad I did. Max heart rate today was just 160! JUST 160!!! Whoa! Yay me!!!!

There are gross things about riding a bicycle. Stuff I guess people don’t talk about. Like the guys who pass you and then blow their noses by putting their finger on a nostril and expressing out the other. Every guy who has done this near me has actually taken a couple of seconds to be sure there was a clear radius around them and that someone like me wouldn’t get hit with their snot rocket. It’s still gross, but kudos to their genteel sensibilities.

I have found that sometimes I cannot wipe my nose or that for some strange reason I cannot shut my mouth. Eventually this crust forms thanks to the wind and the salty air. I also tear involuntarily, so there are often streaks down my cheeks. Bugs get stuck in the sweat and sunscreen on my knees, I get banged with flies and bees on the face all the time, I hold my breath while passing the opala trucks and honey wagons; I gag when oil-burning trucks or mopeds pass me.

Then there’s interesting stuff on the road. Today on Lunalilo Home Road I passed a steak knife, spotted three live mongooses at the end of Hawaii Kai Drive, lusted for the mangos I passed on the road in Kahala, and marveled at the sparkling glass that is shattered right before the pullout for Allen Davis beach on Kalanianaole Highway. I wonder who does that? Who would do that and not feel bad about insulting the aina? I’ve been lucky that each time I’ve passed that no cars were around and I was able to swerve around the glass glistening in the early sunlight.

I knew I was a bicyclist when I started taking this stuff in stride. The sweat lines that appear at your hips and under your boobs, the road grit that leaves a streak up one’s butt and back, the grease that gets on the legs, the ripeness of body scents after a ride…you get to a point where you couldn’t care less about any of it. You just feel good. And because you get on your bicycle or go to the gym, or go for a run, the rest of the world can kiss your ass because you just worked yours off.

What’s the best thing about a workout? The end? The way those jeans fit? The slow and steady dissolution of body fat? The growing younger each year? Yes! Yes to all of the above.

P.S. Last night I made angel hair pasta with sauteed fresh grape tomatoes, minced onion, olive oil, caviar and a small bit of creamy Alfredo sauce mixed with some of the pasta water. It was delicious! I had wanted to make it with anchovies, but when my hunt through the cupboards didn’t yield any, John suggested the caviar. Winner, winner, pasta dinner! That and some bubbly was a perfect meal last night.