biek friendz!

Last night, I went home with a guy I had just met.
Actually we parted ways about 200ft after getting on our respective bikes, but I'd been eyeing his bike for a while. A red 'cross Alan; it used to be locked up at the bike rack near the parking lot. I recently switched to the one in front of the law library [mostly because someone seems to own my very same bike except in size "very very tall"], and the Alan's been locking up there too. I took this as a sign that I was meant to be friends with this person. I just had to find him.
Okay, granted, it ended up that I had met him before [at my other home, i.e., IBC], where he was getting his other other other other bike fixed. Still, being sort of bike-friend-deficient until recently, it was fun to jump onto bikes together and roll away from the stress-fueled depths of the library.

Because despite the fact that I can now legitimately say I have [bike] friends who are growing into this big, lovable family [like one I actually am comfortable giving hugs to...and that's big, coming from me], as well as a growing network of internet friends [my Facebook friends count has significantly increased], I've barely gone on rides with any of them. I rode more than 100ft for the first time with Eric last Sunday, my first 10ft with Chris, and now 200ft with a new bike friend from school. The irony is that I've never gone on rides with friends I've known the longest; Jones is in Iowa, and my 1L study group friends are just starting to get back on their respective bikes.

I know, I should start taking my own advice and stop whining hanging out so much and start riding. Because I've been parking my bike next to friends recently. I just don't find myself on the road with them so much.
But with emails from fellow cyclists with gorgeous pictures stunning enough to make me want to go out and train, that's going to change. Just you wait.

cookie monster mascot

Believe it or not, I've sort of been trying to avoid cookies. Or, eating cookies, rather.
I haven't gone so far as to give them up for Lent, but a desire to lose the winter weight has me sort of watching what I eat. Sort of. Because after my first hour-long ride [perhaps ever, because I can't really remember the last time I've done that], I'll drop by IBC partially for some promised cookies.
And not just any cookies, but the hotly discussed [at least at IBC] Newman O's. Oreo's cousin if it was organic and actually tasted like real food. I ate four. Yeah, four. Because when delicious cookies come in a huge ziplock bag and are tucked away at a bike mechanic's work station, well, they become that much more irresistible.

The strategic placement of those cookies meant that I was standing behind the counter, in biker gear and almost looking like I knew what I was doing. When customers came in, and all the actual employees were busy, I consequently looked like the lazy douchebag employee who refused to ask the obligatory "How can I help you today?"
Chris later came up with the idea that [given the fact that I can't work at IBC even though he insists on telling me I should every single time I see him] I should just tell people I'm the IBC mascot. Thus, I'm required to hang out and represent IBC, but am completely unable to actually help out any customers.

I like that idea. That means I can hang out endlessly and watch my friends work/ride my bike around the store/fix stuff [note that Chris looks like he's on a mini bike because he's about a foot taller than me]. Just when I was getting a little sad that soon [after the completion of my new bike], I may not have an excuse to drop by IBC "to see my new bike/take a look at the new part that came in/pay Erich," I now have a reason to perpetually hang out. Behind the counter, even!
But only if cookies are supplied. Oh, and don't forget the [good] energy bars!
[If you're in the Boston area, come out to the Middlesex tonight to celebrate the publication of Volume 3 of Embrocation Cycling Journal!]