workout log: 18 June 2006

Activity: road cycling
Location: Dupont Circle > Potomac/Avenel, MD
Distance: 32.9 miles (moderately hilly)
Duration: 1:57
Weather: hazy, hot and humid, 91 degrees
Avg HR: 159 (max 184)
Type: aerobic

A hot mid-day ride that fit into a limited timeframe, following the usual “Downtown Breakaway” route (mainly due to the abundance of shade on the side streets). The ride was hot, but fine: I kept hydrated, and I managed a good clip coming back to DC. I saw some lizards sunning themselves on the Capital Crescent Trail, which is a first for me.

I also had a run in with some homophobic frat boys about 12 miles into the ride, while cruising along MacArthur Boulevard. These guys pulled up to me in their shit-gold metallic Acura TL, and two of them proceeded to drop their pants and moon me, inserting their fingers into their butts. It was most charming, let me tell you (and some guys really need to consider electrolysis hair removal). At any rate, I said “look, the Log Cabin Republicans have decided to say hi,” and they didn’t seem to get the joke. They just continued to make the case for Darwin’s theory of evolution.

The driver then decided to nudge his car closer to me, likely because I wasn’t altering my path. As I was going 22 mph. at the time, on a road that doesn’t have a shoulder, he was getting close to running me into a roadside full of mud, rocks, glass, and trees – it would’ve been an ugly crash, and I don’t need another season-ending injury (much as I would’ve loved to have them tried for attempted vehicular manslaughter – I remember their license plate number).

So I had to do something to get him to back off. My weapon of choice: my bottle of Gatorade (fruit punch flavor, in case you’re curious, mixed at 70 percent strength). I grabbed the bottle and gave the two moonies a red syrup bath, and it certainly made its way into the tan leather interior of the car, too.

That got the driver to pull away from me, driving ahead while his passengers yelled back “we’re gonna kick your ass up ahead!” So I did what any self-assured cyclist would do: I shifted into high gear and sprinted after them. I caught up with them within about a block, getting up to 35 mph. I yelled “try me” to them, and they hightailed it out of there.

I guess a guy in red, white, blue and black spandex, with shaved (albeit muscular) legs and a ponytail was too much for the sorry, immature assholes to handle. Granted, I could’ve been placing myself at risk, but these kids’ bark is much worse than their bite. They have no spine or self-respect – which is why they are likely Log Cabin Republicans.

The funny thing is that another rider told me to “watch out for some assholes in a tan Acura” about three miles down the road from where I was accosted. He’d been given the biz by them about 40 minutes earlier.

So it was an adventurous ride, as well as a god-awful hot one.