Having experienced virtual racing, I can’t believe there are more people who film themselves suffering on a trainer to share on social media than there are people who blog.
I had my second-ever virtual race and the first with “the wolves” on Tuesday. Thankfully, the roomie wasn’t home to witness my thousand faces of agony. My pores opened like floodgates, and within minutes, a small lake had formed underneath my bike. This went on for 72 minutes.
In the videos I mention, riders often forgo the jersey due to comfort. What remains of their attire looks like a futuristic lederhosen, thanks to the cycling bib and chest strap heart rate monitor combo. The willingness to allow people to watch you, in sweat-soaked bibs, make the same faces women make when giving birth, is not the level of exhibitionism I can partake in.
With TikTok and Insta stories, are people just getting lazier about writing? Am I out of touch?
No. It’s the children who are wrong.
The wolves refer to the ladies of RIOT in the A category. The watts I put down in last week’s race with the B ladies forced me to abandon my team after one race. Essentially, “It was fun racing with you all, but I’m leaving because I’m too good for you all.”
It’s a morale boost knowing I’m strong enough to race with the A’s, but I’d just barely learned the game mechanics. I didn’t realize until after last week’s race that the sweet spot had you position your avatar’s head over the butt of the rider in front of you. Getting into this position would have reduced the resistance from my trainer, making it easier to stay with the group. I’d have liked getting more practice in before being thrown to the wolves, but there was no going back.
It was much harder and more thrilling. I wasn’t shocked to find myself dropped from the lead group within the first two minutes of the race. I was delighted to find myself in a small group that included Jen, my real-life riding buddy. We are so evenly matched that we finished the race 14-15 with nearly identical times on all the bonuses as well. Two RIOT wolves finished 2-3. Even if I mastered the art of blocking someone’s butt out with my head, I’m not strong enough to finish among the top.
It felt surprisingly satisfying to place 14th out of 32 wolves. It means I’m not the Moon Moon of the peloton.
The following morning, I joined Alexa at the gym, where she showed me how to properly use the equipment, eg, wiping down every piece of equipment after use and avoiding placing your head over someone’s butt for optimal performance. She showed me the ropes, including a crusty one which we used for face pulls. I learned how to do the Bulgarian squats and look forward to learning the squats of the other nations. I finished the gym session by yanking a chain for 20 minutes, rowing five make-believe kilometres while looking into the windows of the condo buildings across the street, searching for the appeal of making this a regular thing. All this time, the appeal was right behind me, reading a book while pedaling on a stationary bike. Alexa is the best hype woman, and I look forward to my next lessons with her.
I’ll also mention that there’s a rocket ship-shaped time capsule in the lobby of the recreation centre that was assembled in 2000 and is due to be opened this year.
“25 years ago isn’t that long ago.” I declared and then immediately second-guessed myself. 25 years ago, my blog existed, and my time capsule is an external hard drive smaller than a deck of playing cards. Occasionally, I’ll revisit the past, read something I wrote 25 years ago, and it’ll hit me how long ago Y2K really was.
I used to be into MS Paint:
Before I mastered describing things using words, I drew pictures with my mouse. Among whales and penguins, there were:
Ugly tops.
Gynosaurs.
One-eyed bats of Zanzibar.
Three panels to explain what a “Louisville Plugger” is.
I have a feeling the collection of MS Paint works I have on my hard drive is more exciting than anything that comes out of that rocket ship. Or pluggee.
squaremeat.com 