A couple weeks ago, I was riding with some friends along Broadway, one of the major roads through Boulder, and coming the other way was an unmistakable kit. Well, unmistakable to me, at least. I knew who it was before I could even see her face. Without naming names but obviously giving you enough information to figure it out, let’s just say she’s cute as hell, a pro and Olympian, and I have a huge crush on her. She waved to our group, we waved back.
“You guys realize who that was?” I said, sounding like a 12-year-old spying the cutest 8th grader at recess. They didn’t recognize her. I joked that I should have just turned around right then, and gone to ride with her. Instead I rode with two dudes, getting lost at one point.
Flash forward to this afternoon. I’m riding back to work in Gunbarrel after a good lunch ride up Flagstaff. I stop at a stop light along Diagonal, and who do I see weaving her way to the front of the line but Extraordinary Smile. Not even during the 15-minute mountain interval was my heart rate monitor reading this many BPM. Off the charts. I get up to her, put a foot down in line behind her and notice she’s got earphones in. Damn.
She senses a shadow, and glances back, smiles and says hello. You see this girl’s smile, you can’t help but smile back. The light turns green, and she takes off. I’m right behind her, and going faster than she, so I’m thinking about how I pass her. Do I say something? Do I tell her she’s incredibly attractive and seems super interesting, and I’d want nothing more than to take her on a date before her date with the European Classics? Do I high five her and congratulate her on her huge win at the Flèche Wallonne this last year? I laugh a bit at myself, at the absurdity of it all, at the unexpected butterflies.
I just ride by, get one last look, and head back to work.
Were this a race, then that was the move, and I just missed it.