| DGouldthorp | member since May 2009 |
 | Senior MomentsJune 21, 2009, 5:44 pm Senior Moments With Gouldthorp (June) I’ve written before about the two types that hang out at the gym; those who are just there to be seen and admired, wearing fully coordinated ensembles, looking cool, and not doing much besides talking the talk; and then there’s the rest of us plodders who have spent our hard-earned dollars on a membership in the hope of shedding a few pounds and getting in shape. And we’re not at all bothered if our outfits aren’t new or look just right. All we want to do is get our money’s worth and sweat for an hour. Personally, I’m too old to try and look cool at the gym so I typically wear one of my old faded T-shirts (sleeves cut off) and my cycling shorts which are now so old and baggy, I reckon I must look like a test pilot for a new line of super-capacity geriatric diapers. My favorite pieces of equipment are the stationery bikes with the computer screens. You can choose from a quick and easy one mile, five minute ride to a twenty mile mountain stage that takes an hour or more to complete. You can ride with a pacer or race against a ghost who represents your previous best time. There’s even a little map of the course on the screen which displays you, the pacer and your ghost so you know, at all times, where you are and how you’re doing. The on-screen scenery is quite good and whichever route you choose, you can get one heck of a workout. And it’s fun. Anyway, there’s another feller a bit younger than me who also likes to ride the stationery bikes. The major difference between us is that he doesn’t treat it like a workout; I think to him, it’s more of an appearance. Apart from not having a hair out of place and smelling of too much cologne, he will only emerge from the changing room when properly attired in his black bike pants and Tour de France neon yellow cycling jersey, carrying his Shimano cycling shoes. The process of donning said footwear is more elaborate than the Japanese Tea Ceremony and it appears that he can only start and ride once he has assured himself that everyone else in the gym has noticed his presence. A few weeks ago, due to bad weather, the gym was full and the only bike available for me to ride was next to his. I mounted my steed pretending not to notice him and started to ride. I couldn’t miss the fact that he was busy talking loudly to a young lady on his other side, regaling her non-stop with tales of his record-breaking rides, athletic prowess and overall senior stud-worthiness. He was sweating profusely and rocking from side to side as he furiously cranked his pedals on what I imagined were the virtual climbs of the Alps or the Pyrenees. As he turned to speak once more to the young lady, I leaned over and snuck a quick peek at his screen to see what kind of workout he was doing and how hard he was working. Well, whaddayaknow! The old phony was doing an easy ride and putting out such low wattage that any of the kiddies in the gym’s day-care room could have whupped him; and soundly too. I smiled to myself as he recorded his effort in his Training Log with great to-do and for all to see. I wondered how far from the truth today’s epic ride would be. But then I thought, what the heck; let him have his moment. And that might have been the end of the story but as I started to ride the following week, my bicycle’s magical computer screen revealed another, previously unknown function – a message suddenly appeared that read, “You are rider #2.” And there, on the course map on the screen, besides the two little circles representing my pacer and my ghost were two others; numbers 1 and 2. Wow, I’d never seen this feature before and was intrigued as to who rider #1 might be. Shortly, several of the other riders finished their workouts and left the area and out of the right corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the only other rider left – clad in black and neon yellow. No way! Way! The gap between the little #1 and #2 indicated that I had quite a distance to make up and I quietly shifted my bike into its highest gear and started to increase the power. The gap started to shrink immediately and I began to wonder if I could catch up with him. He must have noticed my little #2 on his screen at the same time because I became aware that his legs, instead of steadily turning the pedals at an even pace, took on an exaggerated cadence. Think Mary Poppins on crack. I grunted and pedaled furiously. He grunted and pedaled furiously too. I sweated. He sweated. I didn’t look directly over at him. He didn’t look directly over at me. We raised furtive glancing to new opthamological heights. This was war. The gap closed again. It widened again. Lance Armstrong and Jan Ullrich had never dueled as hard as this on The Tour. Bragging rights were on the line here. The air hung heavy with tension, testosterone and liniment. And then…. The two of us still can’t agree on who was “winning” when the power went out but both acknowledge it was one hell of a ride. And now? Well, when he made his grand entrance into the gym the other day, he had dressed down into – gasp – a T-shirt. And, when I peeked at his screen, he was doing a long, full-power workout. I guess he’s training for a rematch. If it’s getting that serious, I wonder if I should buy some new cycling shorts. Nah. Men of my age shouldn’t wear tight shiny black spandex britches; well not in public, anyway. _________________________________________________ Remember, it ain’t over till they screw the lid on.
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