My first boyfriend was a computer science major [yes, I started dating in college]. He was clean cut, played Ultimate Frisbee, and was his high school's valedictorian. He also watched Star Trek and loved video games. He didn't totally look it, but he was kind of a dork. I thought he was the most adorable thing, ever.
Until we broke up, of course.
Still, I've always had a soft spot for dorky things. Like I find abacuses sort of charming. I really want a Casio calculator watch. And I've played my share of a certain MMORPG.
So when I found myself surrounded by cyclists of every shape and size, at least half of which had on one of those unavoidably bright yellow traffic vests, I didn't cringe. In fact, it was really sort of endearing. Sprinting to Cambridge to drop off hats that I'd promised for months and months, I found myself in the middle of the Amory Park Brookline Bike Parade. I vaguely remembered being handed a flier about it at an intersection on Friday but had proceeded to completely forget about it.
Catching up to the tail end of it, I chatted up a few bike cops before winding my way up the parade. And right before I turned off Beacon to hop onto Comm, I saw the immense peloton that was the Bike Parade. It was impressive. And while it was sort of, well, dorky, it was the good kind of dorky. The kind that makes you smile to yourself because people are having so much fun. The kind of dorky that reminds you that cycling doesn't always have to be about speed and competition and training.
Heading towards Comm, my legs finally moving at a reasonable pace, I unconsciously started to push myself to go faster, faster, faster. But slowing down at a light, I wondered why. It was Sunday. I was rushing to Cambridge...just to rush there. And I was getting sweaty and gross.
I coasted the rest of the way there, resisting the urge to pick up and haul ass. Decked out in all black, my poor choice of clothing dictated that I was sweaty when I arrived to chat with friends. And watching them get excited over a few cycling caps, I realized how bike-dorky we all are. It's just hard to tell without the yellow vests.
No wonder I love bike people.