I’ve been very angry lately. I’m frustrated and there are people who I would sell my soul for (not really) who could help me and they don’t. So my frustration has morphed into anger.
Today I was very, very angry. I rode angry miles at 6am this morning to meet some boys who don’t really care if I ride with them or not, but prefer to say they care while secretly hoping I never actually do ride with them because girls are a nuisance when you’re busy comparing the size of your penis.
I knew that my entire plan was a hopeless endeavor from the start, so I laid in bed for 48minutes waivering on whether or not I was actually going to go through with it.
The anger won out. I could not go back to sleep no matter how hard I tried. In a record time of 7 minutes I was out of bed, into my cycling spandex, and out the door to meet the boys. I was late. It didn’t really matter because I didn’t actually know where to meet them. I just knew it was somewhere on the river and that I had been there before. I was just hoping that I would spot their jerseys and figure it out. I did. They all saw me, but no one recognized me. So I just spun around and tagged on to the back of the peloton. They were confused. Who the fuck is this? Do we ignore her? Him? Do we let him (her?) follow along? I was too angry to say good morning to any of them. I just rode. I knew I wouldn’t make it far before they dropped me so in all honesty I felt greatings were a waste of my precious oxygen and passed on them.
Eventually someone recognized me. It didn’t change anything.
I lasted about 17minutes before they dropped me for real. It was all I could do to hang on to the back of their pack between stop lights, but on the second hill my legs were already done. I lost the draft and never recovered. As best I could I kept an eye on them up the road from me. I figured I would follow them as far as I could, but I lost them when they turned left and disappeared before I could get to the intersection.
I stood there for a while not sure what to do. Eventually I decided to plot my own course and see if maybe I didn’t get too lost. Maybe I would be lucky and catch them on the return trip. Technically they posted their route on the facebook group, but I can’t use Microsoft Silverlight on my smartphone so I couldn’t open the link. So I made it up.
At the peak of some mountain in Kanagawa prefecture that wasn’t the one I was supposed to climb but I made like a dozen wrong turns so who the fuck knows where I was supposed to be anyway, I stopped at a Lawson for some fuel. And then I sat down on the curb and cried.
I cried for my sorry hopeless situation. I am a female. My heart is no more female than it is male, but my body is a female. And I have no playmates. I exist in this void where the women are afraid to play with me, but I’m not strong enough to play with the men. I am alone. Utterly and completely peerless.
I cried for my pathetic inability to make friends.
I cried for my loneliness.
I cried for my wasted years. I am well into my thirties now and I have always wanted to be a professional athlete but never has anyone ever believed I could do it. Now I feel like I am too late, but at the same time I’m also too old to give a shit. Pathetic.
I cried because no one takes me seriously. No one believes I can do it. No one believes I want to do it. No one understands that my soul needs to ride, and to ride hard. No one appreciates how I am suffocating from lack of expression of this fiery need to fucking fly.
When I was done crying, my body chilled from the altitude and the quickly intensifying wind, I climbed back onto my baby Pikuro and wobbled back out into the road.
I didn’t make it to the peak the boys had ridden to. I was 18km off course and exhausted. I rode home.
It was a hell of a ride. 80+km and 1300m of climbing. I did it in under 6 hours including stopping for lunch and various episodes of losing my way. The boys were only scheduled for 75km. I think that’s not too shabby.
No, I think that’s amazing.
I’m amazing. I’m fucking strong, fucking sexy, fucking stubborn…
and fucking lonely. Because for some reason none of that is enough for anyone to want to play with me.