And everyone who was any kind of cyclist KNEW I was nekkid underneath.
And I knew they knew.
So I wore my t-shirt long and baggy.
Of course as time passed, I adjusted to the idea that all cyclists are basically riding around nekkid underneath and no one cares, so the concept lost its allure...er, its novelty.
And then one summer I took a week long ride through the Canadian Rockies. And I wore a long-sleeved t-shirt. And I carried bread bags for the inside of my shoes if it rained. And I carried an extra t-shirt if it got warm and another extra if one got wet... thus was borne the rationale for a cycling jersey and shoe covers (and a road bike, for that matter). Soon, I got one long-sleeved jersey. Then one short-sleeved. Solid colored....
I dabbled in racing. I traded in my floppy, dark purple, pilled Performance jersey for something more form-fitting that screamed in red, white and green and was covered in sponsor logos. I matched-up my socks and helmet. I didn't think twice about it. The kit was at once an identifier and an obligation: sponsors had footed the bills for some of my equipment. Spreading the word was the way to say thanks.
Then? The skinsuit. I guess a skinsuit doesn't leave a ton to the imagination...to an outsider, anyway. At time trials, we all must have looked as if we were nekkid wearing Depends, but to us nekkid was far from our minds. We noticed the team colors, how others had pinned their numbers, and whether or not someone had decided on arm warmers that day. I was confident of the fact, when someone once commented to me, Hey, great skinsuit, that he meant the season's new design, not the body that was wearing it. It's the way racers think.
It's been years since I've raced, but I haven't made a total transition back to cotton and floppy shirts. If I'm riding to supper or to the store, I'll toss travel pants over the cycling gear and I'll wear a sweater instead of a jersey.
Last Sunday, we rode over to see George for the afternoon. As usual, I wore my merino and tights underneath my pedestrian clothing, but the March temps were hitting the mid 50s by the time we were headed home. I needed a stop to switch out the jacket and to peel off the travel pants. As we got rolling again, I realized it was the first time all winter that I was riding with nothing flapping around my legs, with nothing cinched at my ankles, with nothing bunching up where it shouldn't. I could feel breeze...e v e r y w h e r e. ...
Nekkid, I tell you.
And everyone who was any kind of cyclist KNEW I was nekkid.
- tob I have GOT to get out more.
