Monday, July 11, 2005

Sleep...why have you forsaken me?

That's not quite accurate, because it is I who choose other activities over sleep.

Friday's date with Paul lasted until 3:00am. We decided to meet right after work to bike up to the Baha'i Temple together. I got slightly doored en route to our meeting spot but stayed upright and wasn't injured or damages (there is a yellow smudge of taxi paint on my panier). Paul also had an interesting ride: he totally ripped out the seem in the ass of his pants. After we giggled about it, we stopped at a thrift store for a different pair for him, because he didn't want to be disrespectful on the grounds of the temple.

We stayed very late at the temple, looking at the sky as it the sun receded into the darkness. The bunnies continued to feed and the birds were replaced by bats in the sky above us. Finally we headed back towards the city to get some dinner only to realize that everything was closing. First the tapas place in Evanston closed at 11:00--and we arrived at 11:30ish. Then several places in Chicago closed their kitchens at 12:00 also. Our ride meandered a bit through parks and Paul needed water, so we weren't moving too fast. Thai restaurant: closed. Hbar: kitchen closed at 1:00, and I didn't feel like jumping back there myself. Bite: closed. Finally we resigned ourselves to late night burritos and took them back to his place to eat on the balcony while his cats checked me out and demanded affection.

Saturday I went to Wisconsin to play with my friends Steph and Shalan. They were doing the Danskin triathlon and Steph was borrowing my Bianchi. Before I caught the train, I took the pedals off of my fixie to install in WI. My poor fixie--now my Bianchi has both her front wheel and pedals. She looks miserable and pathetic. Maybe I'll have time to fix her tonight.

We spent most of Saturday hanging out in the hotel and giggling like school girls. Truly, we are ridiculous--we all jumped in bed together and semi-cuddled while catching with each others' crazy lives. Steve and Peter watched TV and rolled their eyes at us. After swimming in the pool we piled into the bathroom together to shower, giggle, pee, giggle, change clothes, giggle. Even though they have seen this behavior before, the boys still are perplexed by it. "Why do you need to shower together? Do you hold each others hands when you pee, too?" I guess it is sort of weird--but we spent so much time in locker rooms together in high school, that it just doesn't seem to matter.

Anyway--Shalan and Steph were freaked out about the race the next day and seemed damn-near hysterical to my eyes. They bought enough gatorade to trek across the desert with. Besides swapping out the pedals, I even removed the rack and fender from the bike to make it a racer instead of a fast commuter.

When it was finally time to sleep, Peter took the floor because he said it was his turn. Shalan and I slept together. I wonder what will happen the next time we share a hotel, because then it will be either Shalan or Steph's turn for the floor. I somehow doubt I will end up bunking with one of their husbands. Sleeping on the floor isn't a problem for me--and it makes more sense, but they've got in in their heads that we should try to split things really evenly. Silly.

Sunday morning we woke up around 5:00 to start getting ready. The traffic into the remote parking lots was crazy. Everyone pointed out that all of the jackass drivers had Illinois license plates. They were trying to tease me, but calmed down when I reminded them that I ride my bike on the roads with them. We were really concerned about being there on time, and there were a few people who obviously felt the same way and unracked their bikes and rode on the shoulder towards the start. This certainly made sense to me--but my bike spent the night in the transition area. Not only was I up too early--but I spent about 45 minutes of my life in stopped traffic. Blech.

Both Steph and Shalan were pleased with their race and the vibe there was really good, because it was all women participating. People ran across the finish line holding hands with their friends and children ran alongside their playful mothers in the final kick. The atomosphere was much more supportive than competative. A lot of people rode horrible bikes for a race: hybrids, mountain bikes, clunky old cruisers. That must've sucked--especially considering that the riders of these bikes tended to be older and/or fatter, too.

After the race I rode across the border back into Illinois and to Chicago. A few times when I confirmed that I was on the right trail towards Chicago, I was met with laughter. I guess they thought I was kidding or didn't realize how far it was (about 60 miles). When I replied that I started in Wisconsin, the people seemed incredulous. I rode more than half of the ride on crushed limestone, stopped once at a gas station for ice cream & water and several times for map reading and made it in about 4.5 hours. I felt really shitty for about the last six miles and really poked around (plus I kept finding that my street didn't go through). For the first time my back ached from the ride. very weird.

Overall it was a good ride, but I think I prefer riding with at least another person just for boredom sake. Otherwise there is no one to delight in new sights with me, try to figure out the map or just chat away the miles. Plus, I will eat/drink more with someone else to remind me. It was hot and sunny and I drank two water bottles and ate an ice cream bar--not enough food or water for the ride. Bad me.

Once I was home and fed/bathed/watered I felt better and Paul and I met at the Hbar. What was supposed to be a short visit ended up lasting many, many more hours. The only problem with making out until 4:00am is waking up at 7:00am for work. I'm sort of out-of-it today as I sit here unbathed and with post-make-out session hair that is trying to pass as a rat's nest. So unprofessional.

Tonight I will try to sleep though.

2 Comments:

At 2:41 PM, Blogger Frick said...

finally you can stop whining about not gettin any!

 
At 4:02 PM, Blogger jojo said...

You don't like hearing your sister bitch about her pathetic sex life? What gives?

I thought brothers were supposed to be supportive.

 

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