Life in the Bike Lane: Living with the Avid Cyclist

I am sure many of you loyal readers (four out of six?) have wondered just how magical it must be to live with a cyclist. I'm talking about the avid cyclist, not the pro-racer types. That's a whole 'nother deal. We'd be getting into special puce-colored, after-ride protein and carb blendered drinks and bathroom drains clogged with hair because those guys shave their legs. They say it's for aerodynamics and easier clean-up after a crash, but I don't think so. I'm also writing from the position of a male avid cyclist living with (and very happily) a female non-avid cyclist. Your experience may vary. I asked Mrs. Bike Lane for comments for this column. She said, "You dress funny and don't make me oatmeal," so I dropped that conversation right away. The avid cyclist often spends some time on a "trainer." That means clamping one of his bikes into a device that allows him to pedal in front of the TV in the living room. They're noisy. They're cumbersome. They're boring. If you're a spouse, you don't get to ride it. If you're a spouse, you don't want to. There are fancy (read: expensive) options that cost more than a second car. These have internet connection, training videos and allow the avid cyclist to "compete" with other cyclists around the world. These trainers are often found in a corner of the master bedroom with clothes hanging on them. Yes, Ms. Cyclist has asked for your help deep-cleaning the refrigerator, and you are more than happy to do it. But first, just a quick spin around the neighborhood to test your new seat height, which you changed by 1/8 inch. Turns out, such a test ride takes about the same time it takes to deep-clean a refrigerator. The avid cyclist knows how to get anywhere in the region, at least by bike. It's a knowledge basket that comes in handy when there's a detour because of flooding west of town. But, strangely, one's spouse isn't really interested in a turn-by-turn reliving of the day. "How was your ride?" is like "How are you?" when you meet someone. No one is really interested in how you are and apparently your spouse isn't really interested the fact that a quarter-mile of Mt. Pleasant was repaved. "Fine" is an appropriate answer to both questions. The avid cyclist sees nothing wrong with a drawer for bike gloves, another one for bike hats and another one for socks and arm warmers. Six feet of hanging space for jerseys and bib shorts is probably normal. And the five or eight cycling jackets (including at least one you never wear cycling) in the hall closet might crowd out the family's coats, but they can't be put in the garage because that's where the box of bike shoes is, right next to the box of old helmets. The avid cyclist could put lots of that stuff on shelves in the garage, but there are already three sets of wheels hanging there. Fortunately, the avid cyclist needs only one drawer in the kitchen for things with names like Gu, Stinger, LMNT and Clif. And eight washed water bottles on the sink brighten up the room. The avid cyclist generates special laundry. Four hours on a bike a few times a week, including dribbling coffee down your front, can fill a hamper quickly with extra-groty apparel. If not washed by hand, the washer should be set on delicate, a special detergent used and everything should be hung outside. If it's raining, it's just fine to hang it all from the shower curtain. Just push the spouse's delicates to the side. So, there is a brief introduction to Life with the Avid Cyclist. It's wonderful, as you can see. There are still more reasons your life will be awesome. Bike riders are smarter, will live longer and have plenty of "me" time when they are on the road.