Ubermensch to Jedermensch

“Mature Fantasy Store” says the sign over the strip mall, lending new meaning to ‘strip’.  I’m sitting in the sun, out of the north wind, in front of a wall mural shouting patriotic support for our troops, and watching as car after car park at the end of the lot, SUVs and trucks mostly, and indeed mature men file into the store with no windows.  No one comes out.  Why is it that the most conservative Christian parts of the US have the most strip joints and XXX shops?

I’m waiting on Mike, a teammate from Colorado Bike Law, the team I’ve joined.  We’re going to ride east of the Springs today, destination a bit uncertain, but there’s a strong north wind and the temps will peak at 45 degrees a few hours from now.  I can see the slopes of Pikes Peak from where I sit and the white blanket of snow has spread farther down the slope and even onto the north facing foothills surrounding my home.  It’s getting colder.

Suddenly a furry face, and I’m being licked by a large German Shepherd, and then another romps up with his jaws open wide, not in some kind of canine threat, but because a ball is lodged about as far back as it can fit.  I fish it out and toss it and then a smoking man turns the corner.  Toss, fetch, toss, fetch and then they jump on me again. 

After a quick phone message, a figure shoots south on Peterson Road.  How many fit cyclists are out today?  I hop on the bike and follow suit and discover there is yet another strip mall on the other side of Powers.  We settle on the southern route that we ride with the training group on Saturday mornings, south to Fountain, south a bit more and then back north on El Paso and across Ft. Carson.  The wind is at our backs and the sun is on our faces and we live in that brief moment of cycling bliss when all is right with the world.  We know it’s temporary, but that is what makes it so wonderful right now.

I’ve been fighting a cold virus and feeling pretty crappy the past few days.  Janet and I rode yesterday before her flight to Pittsburgh and it felt good to stretch the legs and get the blood pumping after two days of moping around and doing laundry.  Today I’m not sure if I’m recovered from yesterday’s short ride, but I feel pretty good at the turnaround, forty two miles and not yet two hours into our effort.  Of course, the next twenty five miles will take two and a half hours, but as I explain to Mike, one of the great benefits of my fancy power meter is that I can focus on the power number instead of the speed.  Coming south, we were averaging over 25mph, closer to 30, but the wattage was floating around 150, an easy effort.  Coming back north, into that cold wind snapping the flags straight (who ever said patriotism was useless?) the power number is sitting right at 300, climbing to 400 on the slight rollers.  I can feel good about that on a day that started with a sore throat and sniffles. 

Our conversation ranges from politics to wardrobe malfunctions to time trial bikes and back to politics.  We’re getting to know each other.  As an adult male, it’s fascinating to be aware of the friending process that happened unconsciously to me as a kid.  Janet and I are so focused on friendships for Johann and Karl, we sometimes neglect attending to the process for ourselves. 

Soon, we are at the corner of Tejon and Arvada.  A tap of the fists, an invite to dinner and we’re off in our separate directions, Mike back to the ride start for him and me 600 feet back up to Manitou just in time to pick up the kids.