Tough Guy
A Very Special Little Yogi. Last night, I went to yoga, still sore from the bike ride home the day before. Essentially, a nice looking young woman in tight clothes gently instructed me to put myself in incredibly uncomfortable positions on a ridiculously thin mat. I complied with every request, no matter how impossibly absurd her instructions were. "Spin your heart to the ceiling, breathe into your kidneys, push out your heels while pulling them inward." Her persuasive talents seem to be a function of her obvious athleticism, tight yoga clothes, her control over the exotic, world beat music in the background, a sort of California accent that suggests deep knowledge about New Age ancient wisdom, and the ability to whisper in Sanskrit.
Beat by a Girl. This morning I made the 45 minute bike ride to work, down the Capitol Crescent trail, downhill almost the whole way. An amazing trip, and since commuting normally takes exactly the same amount of time but requires travel by car, train, and foot, I feel that the bike commute may become the norm. Weather was clear and cool, and the trail itself runs along the river much of the route. I was feeling quite the athlete cruising along on my hybrid until I was nearly forced off the road by a girl in bike clothes and on a real road bike. I attempted to keep up, but was quickly left in the dust, trying not to care and saying things to myself like, "I may be slower, but I bet you didn't know that you just ran over a Broad Dock leaf."
Just Plain Dominated. At lunch, a normally very self-possessed coworker (in the sense of thoughtful, sort of quiet, not one to blab), named Gina, who is a confessed former Goth (though then only Goth lite and now frequently seen wearing pastel A-line skirts and cute girly shoewear) remarked to me and my colleagues that I would probably look good in a dog collar and leash, you know, because of my fair skin and all.
After lunch, I came back to the office, turned up the French, sat on the floor, and ate some chocolate.
Today's rule: figure out why I think I'm pretty tough, when evidence seems to go the other way.
Beat by a Girl. This morning I made the 45 minute bike ride to work, down the Capitol Crescent trail, downhill almost the whole way. An amazing trip, and since commuting normally takes exactly the same amount of time but requires travel by car, train, and foot, I feel that the bike commute may become the norm. Weather was clear and cool, and the trail itself runs along the river much of the route. I was feeling quite the athlete cruising along on my hybrid until I was nearly forced off the road by a girl in bike clothes and on a real road bike. I attempted to keep up, but was quickly left in the dust, trying not to care and saying things to myself like, "I may be slower, but I bet you didn't know that you just ran over a Broad Dock leaf."
Just Plain Dominated. At lunch, a normally very self-possessed coworker (in the sense of thoughtful, sort of quiet, not one to blab), named Gina, who is a confessed former Goth (though then only Goth lite and now frequently seen wearing pastel A-line skirts and cute girly shoewear) remarked to me and my colleagues that I would probably look good in a dog collar and leash, you know, because of my fair skin and all.
After lunch, I came back to the office, turned up the French, sat on the floor, and ate some chocolate.
Today's rule: figure out why I think I'm pretty tough, when evidence seems to go the other way.
posted by Michael at
1:08 PM
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