There’s a lot to be said about not fitting in, about being able to view life from the outside, rather than the inside. Sometimes you realize the inside is, indeed, a safer route to take than the outside.
I believe that’s one trait that helped me as a writer over the years. I don’t take much for granted. I probe instead of shrug. Question rather than comply.
That came to mind recently when Robot wrote about worrying about socks. Me, I don’t worry about socks. My wife does every time I put on my colorful knee-highs while camping. God forbid the lady walking around in her PJs and flipflops thinks I look like a clown.
But I digress.
What really hit me was when Robot mentioned that your sunglass arms are supposed to be outside your helmet straps. I laugh for two reasons.
First, everytime I don my cycling helmet and sunglasses, I can never, ever remember what the rule is, inside or outside. For some reason, obviously not because I know, I’ve decided to put the arms outside if I happen to think about it.
Second, I laugh, because by doing that, whenever I take my helmet off first, my sunglasses decide to come along for the ride, and get all tangled up in the straps and, well, you know what that looks like from the outside.
I laugh harder because, yes, I know oh so well what that looks like from the outside.
You see, every time I rushed up to a bike racer immediately after a race, and caught them with their heart-rate soaring and sweat pouring, and wanted to get that great quote that comes before that moment of euphoria or devasation fades, they would rip off their helmet and look like a crazy kid who just walked into a spider web.
I wonder in media training what the rule is, inside or outside the straps?
This week’s question: What cycling “rules” do you laugh at?
Every. Single. One.
The ones I did, the ones I do, the ones I will do, and the ones I won’t do. I was that shop kid schoolboy racer and mechanic that wanted to fit in so I learned the “rules”, followed them, and snickered at those that didn’t. I was also that dirtbag beer drinking, weed smoking singlespeeder that was too cool to follow the “rules” and snickered at those that followed them.
The passage of time, the mellowing of age, and the broadening of horizons has helped me to realize a few things:
Bikes, and riding bikes, is simultaneously awesome and stupid. So are the people that ride bikes. Some are awesome, some are stupid.
Nobody cares what you are doing as much as you do.
In the grand scheme of things, nothing matters and everything matters.
The planet is going to be fine. It’s the people that are fucked, so you might as well do what you want as long as you aren’t hurting anybody else…or should I say as long as you aren’t hurting anybody else that isn’t hurting anybody else.
Great comment and insight. There are always two camps, those laughing with you and those laughing at you
Changing sock height has always been funny. I’ve been an ankle Sox guy for ages. If I’m gifted a pair of longer Sox, I will wear those. Helmet straps inside so they’re flushish against my head and no flapping or wind noise from them. (I’ve gotten used to single step helmet glasses removal.) I wear fleece glove once the temps hit the 50s and warmers in the 60s. I’ve bought into some rules when group riding. The ones that make sense anyway. For safety and efficiency.
The only rules that I keep following pertain to road safety and trail etiquette. (Take the lane when safety dictates and stay to the side otherwise and unless it is a dedicated DH trail keep the speed in check.)
I have so many helmets with different strap configurations that I haven’t thought about where my glasses land in some time. While I prefer that my clothing doesn’t flap in the wind, my desire to wear something that I feel comfortable in if I stop at a burrito joint or a cafe comes first. I’m not entirely clear on the sock rule but because I don’t like the way I look in ankle socks or knee highs, mine land somewhere in the middle.
In the end I just love being out there.