And all through the town
Riders rode with great joy
No snow to be found.
Or taking spin class
I was desperately happy
To go really fast.
I changed out my wheels
I adjusted my gears
I unfurled my clothes
I swallowed my fears
Of being "That Guy".
Oh, you know the one,
Who drags down the group
And makes riding less fun.
"That Guy"" who keeps dropping
His chain from its ring,
Who climbs up the hills
Like fat ladies who sing.
"That Guy" who mis-clips
His cleat, post-stop.
"That Guy" on the edge,
About to be dropped.
I drove to the rendezvous
Where we would gather.
I felt so alive!
I was all a-lather!
Seven riders showed--
We got ready to roll.
Coach Jon looked us over
He wanted to go,
And he wanted to not
Be held back by "That Guy".
I know: Fair's fair.
I understood why.
I began to wonder
Who would be "That Guy"
Who would send us asunder.
Clueless, I was:
I knew not the roads.
I knew not the group.
I knew not the modes
Of training this group
Had completed this season.
Yet I looked around me,
And saw no clear reason
For me to become
"That Guy" whom I feared
I'd trained really hard,
And consistently geared
Myself to do more.
I knew I'd prepared.
Alas, as it happened
I found I was paired
With "That Guy" on this ride.
I spied, and just sighed
At "That Guy" on this ride.
He needed a guide.
This group rode like the tide
They would flow, not just glide.
No place could he hide.
His ego had lied.
I looked at "That Guy"
And from deep inside
I began to chide--
I became quite snide.
I wondered his name.
"Who is This Guy"?
Who keeps dropping his chain.
"Who is This Guy"?
Who could not clip his pedal
Or climb little hills--
Who could not get settled.
"Who is This Guy"?
I wondered aloud.
And then I spied
In a window a crowd
Of riders. Their reflection
Was right there to see.
I was shocked to the core;
"That Guy" was me!
I was "That Guy"
Who kept sucking water,
Who rode with the strength
Of his eight-year-old daughter!
I was "That Guy"
Who at every quick gasp
Was convinced he was losing
His tenuous grasp
On the group. On himself.
On the team. It would seem
I was unworthy
of earning my deep-seated dream
Of riding with passion--
With strength built to match.
But instead of hard bricks,
My house was of thatch.
Resigned to my fate,
I tried to survive.
Jay PolkaDot helped me;
I got home alive
But very much humbled
And and filled with self-rage.
The work I had done
Was for naught. My age,
I felt it most keenly.
I felt like a fool.
41's not so bad,
'till you're taken to school.
But today's a new day.
And instead of thick jelly,
My legs feel quite springy,
and flatter is my belly.
This marks a beginning;
Here I dedicate
To training with passion,
To not have that fate
Repeated. I don't want
To appear as "That Guy".
Instead I shall focus;
Training mind's eye
On being "That Guy".
Oh, you know the one,
Who lifts up the group
And makes riding fun.
"That Guy"" who keeps spinning
Like he has got no chain
Who climbs up the hills
Like he's flying a plane.
"That Guy" who leads sprints
After each stop.
"That Guy" on the edge,
Who never gets dropped.
That's the guy I will be!
You will all see,
As I lead out the pack
most joyfully!
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