ditto my dear-o !

Aw purrrfect; I read wanted: bikewife as I make peanut butter toast and coffee on Sunday morning while google-image-ing keyboard cat tattoos.  Dan snores away... He's not going to the cross race today because he doesn't have a bike--you wouldn't know that from glancing in our studio apartment--and because I guess he had a honkin' time playing dominos last night with the guys (well, his only guy friend here, Ryan).  

My bike-y friend Anna might come to the race today, but it's up in the air.  She's yet to catch cross fever...never even been to a race...and sure won't be compulsively yelling ARE YOU READY FOR CROSS SEASON anytime soon.  Don't get me wrong, Anna's no lame-o.  She's a really hip girl and has been commuting by bike longer than I have, is always ecstatic about our huge climb on the way to work, hates cars as much as anybody: she's thoroughly bike-y, an absolute joy to ride with, and I am ever-so-grateful that we are friends, but that's not really the problem.  It's just difficult to coerce her into racing her bike because I know what's best for her and because I want camaraderie.  With a bikewife the difficulty goes away, because you do know what's best for the bikewife!  (Recall Superweek B.Chan?  I pretended to let you languish over the decision making process, but I was ready to throw myself and the Eastons under that Corolla).  Anna and I will get to this point, but we're not there yet.

There are plenty of people in the city of Portland eating peanut butter toast and stalking their competitors this morning, I'm sure of it.  Plenty of girls, potential wives.  I spotted some yesterday clomping around River City and a couple riding across the bridge, and up the hill to Washington Park.  And standing on the start line I am surrounded by cool chicks who hate cross at that cold and rainy moment, but who actually love it.  The potential for everlasting love is inevitable, as they probably also love the road or the trail and could introduce me to new frontiers like track racing.  However, regardless of my plumage--as attractive of a mate I try to make myself--the bikewife doesn't bite yet...because it can't.

The prerequisites for love go beyond displays of wooly argyle socks and foam dinosaur cutouts, and they are deeper than good race results and compression tights.  We've yet to come across a squash graveyard.  We haven't stuffed a pumpkin in your legwarmer and bounced it home.  We haven't spent the day modpodging vulgarities all over the kitchen.  We haven't lived in a van for a week in the woods, pretending we were pros and eating weird flavored peanuts from Aldi.  We don't talk non-stop smack about a girl who we are afraid of, about the squirrelly chick on the giant (really?), about other teams' conspiracy theories.  We haven't bedazzled our helmets or stuffed our messenger bags full of dumpster bread.  We can't share Heed and soy protein.  The local all-dude bike club is pretty indifferent to our existence.  No one with whom to obsess about Lipsmacker and Tibco, no one who thinks pink aero shoecovers are actually kind of sort of cute even though they are pink..

SO I stalk alone.  And get queasy from eating peanut butter alone.  And I'll probably go to this race... alone.  

Smile!  I'M READY FOR CROSS SEASON!  It's not a big deal.  I miss my bikewife dearly, and would like to find a new one, but it will happen.  It just takes time.  But it will happen, B.Chan!  You'll find someone who can stuff two pumpkins in one warmer!  But for now, it's fun to pretend to be a rogue competitor, sabotaging the CrossCrusade women's B's top 10.  Mua ha ha ha ha......    !!!  

(It's the last CrossCrusade race today and I've been doing alright...solid top 10's and today I am digging deep.  I am sitting 12th in the series, after missing the first three races, and at least a couple of the top women have catted up.  This doesn't really mean a whole lot, but it's fun!  I'm not a points calculator because I don't care that much, but maybe I can get top 10 in the series at least.  We'll see.  The only actual impetus for wanting to do well is that I'd like to show that I am a good enough racer to get on a developmental team.  Other than that, I just want to play in the mud.)