INSIDE THIS ISSUE
NOVEMBER 2008
TCSD Contacts Volunteer Members Board Members Event Calendar Race Discounts
TRIATHLON CLUB OF SAN DIEGO
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Weekly Workout Calendar 5 REAL Beginners Bike Ride 6 Ironman Conversation 9 Race Report 11
Nutritional Tip Sponsor Spotlight Application
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TriNews
A Great Day for a Bike Ride A Tale of Fiction By Barbara Javor I snapped on my bicycle helmet with a little trepidation, uneasy that I’d encounter more rude and aggressive drivers on my commute to work. They seemed to be getting worse lately. CONGRATULATIONS! TCSD club members were awarded 13 podium spots for the three events at the Pumpkinman Triathlon, and a 3rd place finish in Club Division I.
NOVEMBER CLUB MEETING Guest and date pending. Check TCSD website for updates.
wasn’t just their driving and honking, but also the litany of profanity and gestures they flung at me in their impatience while I rode in the bike lane. I didn’t like profanity—the worst I ever called anyone was a toad turd or a squirrel scrotum, and rarely loud enough for the drivers to hear. Today’s going to be different. The drivers’ anger is their problem, not mine. I’m just going to mind my own business and ride. As I hopped on the bike in my driveway, I saw my neighbor a few doors down already watering his yard. Mr. Haskell was a crotchety old man who complained that a young woman like me shouldn’t run in the streets in my skimpy shorts and singlet, nor ride a bike in skin-tight Lycra shorts and jerseys. If he wasn’t complaining about me, he was harping about someone else. He was lonely, and I tried to humor him. Lately he had been trying to instill the wrath of God in me. I told him I was a born-again pagan who believed in many gods, just like the ancient Greeks and Romans. It wasn’t true, but it gave him pause.
IT
“Good morning, Mr. Haskell,” I called as I rode by. “You be careful on that bike,” he said. “It’s dangerous, you know.” I smiled. “The bicycle goddess is going to look after me today.” I have no idea where that thought came from, but it seemed to mollify him as I pedaled away. I rode for a while on residential streets, and then entered a busier avenue. While I waited at a red light of an intersection that led into a mall parking lot, the driver behind me impatiently honked for me to vanish from the bike lane so he could turn. I ignored him. When the light turned green, he floored the accelerator, illegally cut me off to make the right turn, and yelled “F#%* you!” at me. It sounded a little like “Duck you.” Duck you? Honking? I don’t know where the image came from, but I suddenly had a vision of a loud flock of ducks and geese. Something compelled me to stop and watch the car as the driver parked and opened his door. From out of nowhere, dozens of ducks and geese surrounded him, quacking, honking, and pecking at continued page 3