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Like Mother, Like Son

Why is it ok to get naked in the locker room, but not in the parking lot before and after riding?

Maybe it’s because people don’t get memberships at gyms where locker rooms and saunas are co-ed because they don’t want to see naked people. I don’t know. I just don’t think it’s that big of a deal to drop trou unless you’re doing it to obnoxiously expose yourself to people, and even that is funny. I guess some people are extra sensitive to seeing nudity, but maybe they should just be more comfortable with the skin they were born in and continue to own.

I know that after a particularly awesome ride on an absolutely beautiful day last week I noticed two young men sunbathing in the parking lot after a ride. They were wearing shorts, but it didn’t seem like much, and they were so pretty that I had to shout and tell them that they made my ride even better.

“Naked boys in the parking lot?!” I said, riding past, “What an awesome way to end my ride!”

They seemed to think that was funny, but I guess women may feel a little intimidated by being gawked at and yelled at by men, so I decided that’s exactly what makes it such an issue – is people making it an issue, whether they like it or choose to be offended by it.

This is my effort in writing a blog that doesn’t go on about how proud I am of my seven-year-old who did his first mountain bike race this past weekend – and took second place.

He’s never ridden by himself, and although the trails were marked great, I’m certain he was afraid he’d gone the wrong way. I was there as he popped off the singletrack onto the fire road and back across the lake to the finish line. I screamed with excitement when I saw it was already him, screwed up the video camera, screamed at him to go-go-go!!! And then videoed myself running to the finish line with the three-year-old in my arms laughing his butt off because he couldn’t breathe or talk from all the bouncing. I dropped him off on the grass, ran up to the finish line and shut off the video camera when I saw my little racer finishing. Oops.

Got to figure that damn thing out better. It’s hard to manage the tiny buttons of the Android through a veil of proud mommy tears. I was glad the little one had offered me a little comic relief so as not to entirely embarrass them. Last thing I wanted was to be blubbering when he crossed the finish line. He already thought I was a lunatic with all of the last-minute advice about passing people, drinking water, and finishing strong (“When you cross this finish line, you better be hauling the mail son, I don’t want to see you cruising up here like you’re in a parade or something”).

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