They're All Going To Laugh At You

Yesterday's post caused me to reflect on shame.
 
I have a fairly thick skin. Growing up with an older brother and a bunch of male cousins provided me with a sound foundation in being a rat bastard. Years of working with and around aircraft maintainers honed that into the maladjusted, antisocial, and sarcastic curmudgeon I am today. My central theory on interpersonal skills can be summed up as finding someone's sensitive points and exploiting them for amusement and/or personal advancement. I generally expect everyone to approach me in the same manner, so I've developed countermeasures and defenses to deflect their attacks. When I am not dealt with in this manner or someone takes offense to my approach, I get confused and lash out in unpredictable ways. Sometimes I just drool in the corner or make origami frogs until my fingers bleed. I expect any rational adult would have the same response.
 
As detailed yesterday, I was embarrassed because I wrecked in a spectacular manner doing something fairly stupid. All I needed was Bob Saget making some annoying comments over a Yakety Sax soundtrack to make it complete. Any cyclist who had a clip-in pedal fail at a busy intersection has experienced a small measure of this.
 
I briefly considered wearing a different color kit today so that I wouldn't be recognized as "the guy that tosses bikes" by anyone who saw or heard of the original incident, but realized that few non-cyclists can tell us apart. One over-stuffed lycra sausage pretty much looks like the next. 

Slightly removed from the incident (although still bearing the scuff marks and soreness), I realize that it's nothing to worry about. I wasn't significantly hurt, got a somewhat gentle reminder about riding safety, and can still support my family. All good things. I live another day to embarrass them with my choice of apparel, my shaved legs, and my endless "training" for a sport I'll never excel at.
 
They're all going to laugh at me.
 
They're already laughing at me.
 
At least I still get the joke.
 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Sprint Intervals.

Nostalgia.

Uniform Suckiness.