Pride

You know that scene in Pulp Fiction where Marcellus is talking Butch through the dive he'll take in the fifth round?* (I would link it, but it appears Mirimax takes their copyright seriously.)

"you may feel a slight sting. That's pride f__ing with you. F__ pride. Pride only hurts, it never helps."

Maybe pride hurts when you're taking a bribe to fix a fight, but when you're on your morning commute?

The pain drives you.

When "that guy" passes you -- or you pass him -- it's time to dig deep. You can't let him get the better of you, right? Drive the legs, keep the rpms up, stay strong.

The other day I passed "that guy" on Terry Francois. He was moving along ok, but I was a little faster. Now, I played hockey the night before, so my legs weren't in tip-top shape to scream the rest of the way to work (or they would really scream at me), but I was doing alright. It wounded his pride though, and he hopped on my wheel. No time for mercy . . . or tired legs.

On the turn to the Embarcadero I observed traffic laws and followed the cars in front of me turning right. That was his opportunity as he bolted around them on the left, then weaved back through them back to the bike lane on the right. But it only gained him one car length and I made it up quickly as we approached the light at 2nd. Then he did something strange: he slowed to a stop.

Why is that strange? 2nd terminates at the Embarcadero, so there's no cross traffic. I've literally never seen a cyclist stop there without pedestrians in the cross walk.

He made a complete stop and I told him, "I'm a bad person, I run this one." He smiled, chuckled, and replied, "Got ticketed for it just a little while back." Ouch. He might have been this guy (same place, pretty close to the same time).

To his credit, he learned his lesson from that ticket. Not me; on I went, and thus ended the race. Though I kept motoring just to make sure. Plus, the sprint down the Embarcadero in the morning is a fun one.

Light or no light, he didn't stand a chance.

And, yes, I realize this is further evidence I'm becoming "that guy." Still no lycra pants or team jersey on the commute, though. That's where I'm drawing the line. For now.

* For you non-Tarantino fans, Marcellus is an organized crime boss, and Butch is the boxer he's paid to rig a fight.

Headwind

The good news? The wind blowing to the southeast is blowing that unseasonably hot weather out of here.

The bad news? It was blowing right in my face this morning.

The good news? It gave me a little push up my two climbs.

The bad news? It beat me down, took me down on average about one gear and about two mph.

The good news? I still beat SM 292 from Grand to Cesar Chavez (that makes me 4-1).

The bad news? Those mphs cost me about 4 minutes on my way in.

The good news? The lights made up for a little of that.

The bad news? Weird traffic stuff going on this morning.

The good news? I didn't run over any pedestrians today.

And more good news to finish on? It was still a great way to start a Friday heading into the holiday weekend.

The Race

Today started off fairly mellow. I'm not playing hockey this mid-week, so I'm riding into the office an extra time or two. This being the third day in a row (that doesn't happen often), I wasn't sure if I should press or take another leisurely ride like yesterday. Despite putting a little extra air in my tires last night, a little headwind to start off deflated my attitude a little, enough to slow me from really going for it, so I spent the San Mateo County portion of the ride just cruising along, nothing special.

It's funny, though. Attitude makes all the difference, and little things make big differences to your state of mind. I pulled up to the light at Airport and Grand in South City right beside the SamTrans 292, which runs along Airport, up Bayshore, and down to Mission. Basically the same route I was taking. The light turned green, and we started off from the same place. The bus, of course, has a higher top speed, but doesn't normally accelerate as fast and has to make stops for its riders.

So, I pulled away from the bus and started up the little hill on Airport. As I was cresting the hill, not really working that hard, the bus came careening by. Headed down Bayshore, it pulled into the bike lane to pick up its next round of passengers . . . and the race was on.

I bolted out around and made a dash for it. I take Tunnel and meet up with Bayshore again headed up and over 101. I wasn't really pushing that hard on Tunnel, but at Bayshore there was the 292, again, waiting in traffic for the light at 3rd. Now the race was really on. Up the hill I cranked, then across 3rd, over 101, and onto the descent on Bayshore (which is the fastest part of my ride). At Salinas the 292 passed me, but again it had to pick up passengers just before the U-Haul depot, and I passed it back. Then we were stopped at another light together (killing my downhill momentum). By this time I was fully in the mindset, so no more lollygagging. The light turned and I was off. Despite the moderate incline, I was pushing hard and keeping just ahead of the bus.

At Silver I knew I had ST292 beaten; I held it off to the light, cruised through, and saw the 292 had another stop to make behind me as I flew down the northside of Bayshore. Right on Alemeny, left on Loomis, back up to Bayshore, then right on Cesar Chavez, and I had won (at Cesar Chavez, the bus gets on 101 for the last leg before Mission -- as far as I'm concerned CC is the finish line in that race, though with traffic on 101 I wouldn't be too surprised to learn I beat it to the downtown bus depot, too).

Of course, by then my mind was right to keep the cranks turning, so I finished up fairly strong. I didn't kill myself down Illinois and Terry Francois, but turned it up a notch around the Embarcadero, keeping it between 23 and 25 until I reached the Ferry Building.

The moral of the story? It's all in your head. Oh, and I'm faster than SM292 (at least for today), but no, I can't take you downtown.