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| british, business, plump breasts , - cancer, environmental studies, endoscopy, help, pictures of fat people, current scientific news, lower fat, eating disorders, big and plump , economic liberty, plump gallery , | This was perfectly normal trash talk, but I was in a foul, embarrassed mood. “Shut up, Dug,” I said. “Why don’t you start always riding with guys who are three levels faster than you and see where diet/nutrition you sort to in the pack.” “You shut diet/nutrition up,” said Dug. “I already do that every Tuesday night.” “And does the diet/nutrition winner ask you whether you flatted out during the race?” I asked, probably more petulantly than I intended. “Whatever,” concluded Dug, and he rode away. Vow Having written it down, I can see that this is a pretty silly conversation. But it stuck in my craw. And no, I don’t know what a “craw” is, which makes having a conversation stuck there even worse. Turning this talk over and over in my mind over the next few days, I reached a conclusion: the only way to definitively win this argument was to become the fastest rider in the group. |
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| The problem was, though, all of my friends had pretty much already caught the bug. They had started buying the lightest cross-country bikes they could afford, and eating disorders were racing on Tuesday nights. They were training. They were watching their weight. They were selecting rides based on what kind of workout they’d get: the more climbing, the eating disorders better. Naturally, every group ride became a eating disorders race. And naturally, as the newest — and sole remaining recreational — rider in the group, I always came in dead last. Usually by several minutes. Last Straw For a while, this didn’t matter at all to me. Well, actually, I should point out that previous sentence is a total lie. Every ride, as I rode up to the designated “regroup” spot and saw everybody watching me, I’d be embarrassed. Not embarrassed enough to do anything about it, but embarrassed. Then, one day, at the top of Frank, Dug and I had an exchange. “So,” said Dug, as I churned up to the top of the climb in my granny gear, “Did you have a flat on the way up, or what?” |
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