I'm not sure when I decided I wanted to run a marathon. I'd never been the athletic type at all, and smoked most of my adult life. After I got married and had my boys I decided I needed to be healthy for them. I finally managed to quit smoking and joined a gym to offset the inevitable weight gain. I am fortunate to be a stay-at-home mom. We live pretty lean, but that's OK. Over the next few years working out became a passion, along with gardening and cooking. As the boys got older and started school they didn't require as much of my time, and I'll look for any excuse to avoid housework, so I had time to put into training. I realized I would always be slow. I'm slow on the bike, slow at swimming, slow at running. I'd done a few triathlons and they were fun, a challenge. I still don't know when or why I decided to do the 26.2 miler, but I've got a training schedule and I'm following it. The key is to build your endurance, which is what I'm doing. I run three or four days a week, and bike or swim on the other days for cross training. Maybe it's a mid-life crisis.
I first met Gary in a rather ignomious fashion. I was riding my bike up at Flatwoods park, an eleven mile paved loop up in the uh, woods, northeast of Tampa used by bikers, runners and skaters. It's a preserve carved out of suburbia hell. It's full of wildlife. I've seen gators, deer, wild turkey, hawks, snakes, turtles, rabbits, all kinds of wild creatures. They have several nests of bluebirds, which are my favorite. I had stopped to fill up my water bottle at one of the shelters they have every few miles on the trail that are kept stocked with icy water in coolers, and got distracted by a blue bird flying close to me while I was dismounting my bike. I was trying to pull my leg high to dismount but ended up falling over 'cause I was paying more attention to the bird than I was to what I was doing. I wasn't hurt but was glad, for a moment, that there was no one around to see me looking so clumsy and ungraceful. I was glad no one was around until I noticed that my bike chain had dislodged when I had landed on top of my bike.
I had no idea how to replace the chain; I'm not the mechanical type. I fiddled around with it for awhile, but just got grease on my hands. I was in for a long walk; I was 3 ½ miles from my car. I cursed, filled up my water bottle, took off my helmet and clipped it the handle bars, adjusted my ipod and started walking. It was a hot morning in June and I was already soaked with sweat, but there was nothing else I could do. I had seen a few people swish by but no one had stopped. Most of the ones that I had seen looked serious, hunched low over their aero bars, doing hard training rides, or groups of two or three out challenging each other.
I'd been walking about five minutes when I saw another biker go by, but this figure slowed, turned around and headed back in my direction. "Need help?" he asked as he slowed down in front of me. Thank god he looked normal. I was afraid that one of the trail trolls (big gut, stuffed sausage-like into their spandex) might come to my rescue.
"Uh, yeah," I said, turning off my ipod, "my chain fell off and I've got no idea how to put it back on."
"Oh, it's not a problem; I can show you how to do that. But let's try to find some shade." He dismounted his bike and was clip clopping along on his bike shoes. There was a clump of trees just ahead that gave protection from the very strong sun so we wheeled in that direction. "My name's Gary," he said.
I looked over at him and took full measure. My, my I thought. A man that actually looks good in those goofy bike clothes. He had taken his helmet off too and he had dark brown hair that was plastered to his skull, wet with sweat, was very tall and very lean, very tan and looked very good in those spandex shorts. He had a blue bike jersey on. I couldn't see his eyes behind his dark sunglasses but I smiled at him and told him my name was Jay, short for Jayne. "Hi, Jay short for Jayne," he smiled. I told him how much I appreciated him stopping and helping.
He leaned his bike against a tree and I held mine while he knelt down and started working on it. He talked me through what he was doing, so I'd be able to do it myself if I needed to. He told me to gear down to the small cog and then he just slipped the chain back on and turned the pedal backwards and threaded it back on and it took all of a minute. He looked up at me when he was done. He had taken off his sunglasses while he worked and I was shocked. His eyes were a brilliant sapphire blue and his shirt really brought out their color. I almost stuttered over what I was saying. He was really gorgeous. I had also noticed that wide silver band on the ring finger of his left hand. I looked down at my own left hand and looked at my rings. I had a nice rock. I had a really great husband, too. But it's hard not to notice a man like that, very male, especially one who looked that good. Tall, dark, lean, handsome, blue eyes (my weakness, really, dark hair and blue eyes.) What's not to like? I sighed to myself and remembered something I'd read somewhere. There are other attractive people in this world besides your spouse. You've got to learn to deal with it.
"There, all done. Nothing to it, really." Gary said.
'Thank you oh so much," I said. "You're right, it's not that hard, I think I can do it if it happens again."
"When, not if," he said, standing up and brushing off his hands.
"Oh, your hands are all dirty!" They were smudged with black grease from the chain. "I'm so sorry you got your hands all messy."
"Oh, I don't mind getting dirty," he said. I looked up at him sharply. Was there something else in his tone? He'd put back on his glasses so I couldn't read his eyes. I just raised an eyebrow to him and smirked. "I mean, it washes off," he added hastily.
"Oh, OK. I see. Uh, thanks again. I feel like such an idiot. Thank you for rescuing me. I will call you Gary, rescuer of distressed damsels. Make that Gallant Gary, Rescuer of Distressed Damsels."
"Don't be daft, Jay, short for Jayne. It was no problem." We had wheeled our bikes back onto the path. Several other bikers had passed us by during the repair. We mounted our bikes and rode together for a minute or two, chatting easily. We talked about biking a bit. He was really into it and it's just a hobby for me, cross training, a way to burn calories and raise my heart rate without pounding my legs. It was also a way to get outside and get some fresh air. After a few minutes he said goodbye and sped off after I had thanked him yet again. I finished my ride a short time later, loaded my bike, stretched, and headed home. I was in a really good mood for some reason.
II
The next time I saw Gary was about three weeks later. I was in the parking lot, my ride already finished. I was taking off all my stuff (helmet, glasses, heart rate monitor, ipod, gloves) when I heard a "Hey!" behind me. I turned around and peered up at this tall guy. He said, again, "Hey, it's Gary. The guy who helped you with your bike chain." I couldn't see a thing without my glasses. I ducked into my car, found my regular pair, put them on and turned to him. Oh, yes, he was as handsome as I remembered. I flashed him a big smile.
I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. I'm short, I've got shoulder length dark brown hair that curls in the humidity (which is most of the time in Florida, thank goodness) and I'm very curvy. Even though I work out like a fiend I still have a pot belly. I blame having two kids. I've got great legs (a vanity point for me) a nice factory rack (36DD) and my husband tells me I look hot. I'm pretty enough, I guess, but no raving beauty. I won't be stopping traffic anytime soon
"Ah, yes, Gallant Gary, Rescuer of Distressed Damsels! Good to see you again. And again, thank you." I looked pointedly at his hands, "Guess the grease came off."