No Respect

It was bound to happen.

"You rode 522 miles in 7 days?!? I can't believe that! You really did that?!?"

"Yes."

"Did you hear that? Can you believe that? She rode 522 miles in 7 days!!!"

"Yeah, she did Ride the Rockies. It's fully supported. It's no big deal."

No respect!!!

My blood boiled. Then a couple of names I don't like to think much less say popped into my head. I ignored the comment and continued the discussion, pretending not to be hurt and insulted. Deep inside, I couldn't understand what would make someone feel the need to belittle the accomplishment of another.

Seemed like a great start to what could be an awesome blog post, but then I got stuck. I couldn't think what to write next. I wanted to end on a humorous note, but I couldn't think of one. After writing a replay of the conversation, I was angry all over again!

So I let The Lizard read over my shoulder what I'd written. He'd been as offended as me when he first heard about the comment. "Let's see YOU do 522 miles in 7 days, Mr. Tough Guy!"

I would add, "When's the last time YOU rode 1,000 miles in one month, EVER?"

Mr. Tough Guy does the Copper Triangle every year. That's it. He gets bored if he rides more than three times a year. So he does just one organized ride. Fully supported. 70 miles. One day. Did I mention, "fully supported"? Look at all those rest stops!!! (I fully support the mission of the Davis Phinney Foundation and am not in any way slamming the Copper Triangle. I'm simply poking fun at one clueless rider...)

During the 522 miles of my Ride the Rockies, "fully supported" by ONE variety of fruit and a tray of animal crackers every 22 miles or so, along with vendors who charged $6 or $7 for food such as fajitas, Thai noodles, hamburgers and other choices that just don't sound appealing to me during an 80-mile ride, I carried my own food. I ate scrambled egg and cheese burritos or pancakes at the first aid station each morning. I ate bananas when they were available (generally every three rest stops). On the final day, I ate pretzels twice. Everything else I ate the entire 522 miles was food I carried in my pack or in my jersey pocket.

During the 266 miles of training I did during June and the 742 miles of training I did during May, there were no "fully supported" rest stops. That prepared me for Elephant Rock, Ride the Rockies and the MS-150 and sticking with my diabetic eating habits. I assure you, every day, fully supported or not, was a very big deal to me because I worked hard to be ready.

And yet, no respect. No respect at all from Mr. Tough Guy!

Now the thoughtless comment has had more time to sink in, and emotions are a little stronger, even for The Lizard.

"Write this in your blog post," The Lizard directed with a glimmer in his eye. "Write: I told my husband about the comment, and he took matters into his own hands. Sammy got a joyride and had a wonderful dinner."

"Sammy" is the rattlesnake we recently found occupying an outcropping of rocks outside our garage. Sammy's now been relocated to a canyon with no human inhabitants. That doesn't stop The Lizard from making frequent promises about what havoc he will encourage our former reptile resident to wreak.

When someone cuts us off in traffic, The Lizard promises to hide Sammy in the rude driver's vehicle. When something in politics gets us rattled, The Lizard vows to send Sammy to D.C. (I should write a book about that!!!) When we pick up garbage others have callously left behind, The Lizard schemes ways to booby trap trash slobs with a once neighborhood creepy crawler.

I wonder if we could find Sammy now if we tried. Wouldn't it be fun to drop him off in a certain unsuspecting person's mailbox?

Heh, heh, heh. No respect. None at all!

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