My dad wanted to go to IHOP or Denny’s. Ignoring his birthday wishes, I dragged him down to downtown Pleasanton, instead.
“What’s good there,” he said.
I didn’t know exactly, but we agreed on Strizzi’s, that Italian place on the corner.
Strizzi’s was closed, so we ambled on to the next restaurant we could find. It was called The Oasis, with a backyard dining area sheltered by trees and pink flowers.
We sat down inside, and the waiter handed us our menus.
“You took me all the way downtown for Indian food?”
He loved it.
I am typing in my sharksuit (cycling team kit) at Miguel’s place in the city, and I am very cranky. I am very cranky because I was hoping to do a two-hour ride this morning before my boss comes by at 10 to pick me up for meetings in San Jose. And I left my helmet in Miguel’s car. And I’m not going to ride without a helmet.
And so I missed my ride yesterday and this afternoon it’ll probably be too windy, with too much traffic, and so I’m cranky, cranky, cranky. And I’m going to tell you something that makes me really cranky. And I probably should not put it into writing, but I will.
The Pescadero Road Race was last Saturday. Everything was going just dandy until the neutral feedzone before the final climb up Haskins.
Well, it was in this neutral feedzone that our Women’s 3 chase group was caught and passed by the Women’s 4 breakaway. Well, rather than neutralize and let them pass, because those are the rules — you don’t mix with different categories with different start times — the majority of our chase group sucked their wheels and got a very nice break between themselves and the whole three of us who opted not to do that.
I debated protesting, but reasoned that I would look like a fool should some judgement actually be made that would toss them out. Or I’d just look like a fool anyway. That’s not how I want to move up in the results, and who’s to say that they would have been any different had they not done that.
I ranted and raged at the finish line, but only in front of a couple of people, who were sympathetic and almost equally outraged. One gal had actually been in that “break.”
“It was a tough call,” she said.
“No, that’s just not okay,” said my teammate Laurie. Yeah Laurie!
“Well, I just didn’t know what to do,” she said.
Uncomfortable silence followed, before I rode off down the hill. That part was fun.
Thinking about the fun parts, like the descents, nearly staying with the fast climbers, and our honest attempt to catch the climbers on the descents, makes me feel good. Two years ago, I was dropped on these descents, and now I’m able to make up ground. You have to look for improvements beyond where your name ends up on a piece of paper.
But it was disappointing to see them all just taking off like that. I yelled up to them, “Those are Cat 4s! Don’t do it!” but they obviously didn’t hear me or were ignoring me or whatever. It is hard because I like these people, and I have such admiration for them. So I’m trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, telling myself that they probably just didn’t know.
Dang it, I really wanted to ride my bike this morning. I guess I’ll just walk to Starbucks now.
I’m back from Starbucks. Next time, could you please remind me to change out of my sharksuit before walking down the street? Shees, the looks I got. “Nice outfit. Lose your bike?” said a guy wearing a hockey helmet, sitting out in front of Starbucks. “Spare me a quarter?”
I had none.
This week’s got to get better.