Am I Getting Old?

On my ride home today, a drop dead, gorgeous blonde, riding a bike, pulled out of a side street some 100 yards in front of me and proceeded in the same direction as myself. She was wearing a tightly fitting, white, sport's bra and black lycra shorts. Her arms, abs and legs were well toned and tanned. Her long blonde hair was tied in a pony tail that swung provocatively to and fro.

Instinctively, I reached down and switched to a harder gear, put my hands in the middle of my North Road handlebars, tucked down low and tight and increased the urgency of my pedaling. All in a concerted attempt to overtake her so that:

a. I might get a better view.
b. She might have the pleasure of lusting at my muscular glutes as I pedaled away.

Over the course of the next quarter mile, I slowly, but steadily gained on her. The distance between us had been cut in half when I reached a crossroads, both literally and figuratively. She was quickly approaching the road upon which I normally turned on my commute home. With every fiber of my masculinity, I longed for her to turn. Imagine my disappointment when she kept going straight. What happened next haunts me more than my feeble grasp of the English language can do justice.

First - As I traversed the next 50 yards I wrestled with what to do. Should I turn and head home or should I go straight? I couldn't believe it. Here I was 50 yards behind the girl of my dreams. At my current speed I was sure to overtake her in the next quarter mile. Yet, I was actually wrestling about what to do. That kind of dilemma is akin to jumping into a lake and debating whether to sink or swim. There's no internal struggle - you instinctively swim for God's sake. There was a time, in what I hope is the not to distant past, that I would have chased this chick around the globe. Yet now, I find myself wrestling with whether to venture from my normal route for but a mere quarter mile.

Secondly - I reached down and switched to an easier gear, grabbed the grips of my North Road handlebars, sat up straight, eased my pedaling cadence and then - oh the shame - I turned!