This past Sunday, while the rest of America was still dreaming about the Super Bowl, I did a brick. Well, not a real brick. I rode my bike fourteen miles to a Superbowl Sunday 10K starting line, and, then, after the race was over, I rode home. I was pleased with myself. Despite the cool weather (it was overcast and in the low 40s), the ride was no problem, and I did the run in record time: 48:56, or about a 7:53-minute mile. The ride home was no problem, either — that is, until the turn-off.
We were riding the American River Bike Trail, and I was supposed to get off around mile 20. By about mile fifteen I was burning out, though, and then at mile seventeen a guy blaring a radio decided to draft on my wheel. Gee, thanks, buddy. But whatever. Just a few more miles . . .
But then I didn’t see the turn off. I’d left my dad and his girlfriend behind, and I’d never gotten off of the bike path at this spot before. The guy behind me had me flustered, and . . . I missed it.
Dammit! I had no idea where I was or how far past it I’d gone. The guy with the radio finally passed me, and I found a place to turn around. Pedal, pedal, pedal. Shut up, legs! You’re not tired! Zooming down a hill: Mile 22 . . . mile 21 . . . Suddenly, “Daaaaaddddd!!!” I saw my dad and Elyse coming at me the other way. “Daaaddd, I don’t know where to go!!!!”
But my dad didn’t stop. He didn’t even turn his head. Whaaa-? I turned around again and pedaled like a madman. “Daaaddd!!!” “Daaaddd!!!” Why wasn’t he responding? “Daaaadddd!!!” Was he deaf?! “Daaaaaddddd!!!” What the hell?!
Finally, I caught up to them. “Daaaaa — oh! I’m so sorry! You’re not my dad!!!”
I have NEVER been so embarrassed.
Note: After passing the unknown couple, I pedaled like Lance Armstrong himself and finally found a place to get off the bike trail. I was too embarrassed to turn around on the bike trail so I back-tracked to my car by road. By the time I reached my car, I’d ridden nearly seventeen miles . . . and I still beat my dad and Elyse!
Have you ever done something embarrassing?