It's true, I've finally hit rock bottom...

I actually, voluntarily, watched a cycling event on television yesterday. Brian wasn't even in the apartment. There wasn't a promise of cheese or carbs if I watched, or hell, even sex for that matter. I've sucumbed, I'm doomed, I don't think I can go any lower. How did this happen? Five months ago, I wouldn't have been able to tell you what a kit was, nor had I ever noticed if bikes had gears--unless I was on one--which I hadn't been in, oh, 7 years. And speaking of gears, I don't know what to do with the damn things anyway, so it doesn't really matter if they are ON the bike...but I shouldn't admit that these days. At least not in the company I tend to find myself recently.

I watched the Prologue to the Tour of California last night. I'm blaming the aftermath of the writer's strike and the rebirth of "American Gladiators". I like, no make that love, Law and Order (all three actually), but I can't watch another rerun. Last night, after the Prologue, I watched an episode I'd watched four times already. I had to find something new.

So, I found myself on Versus (yeah, I even know the name of the network. Sad, I know). I noticed who had disk wheels, who had the more aerodynamic tuck, who slowed at the oval turn. I know 4:00:00 was going to be fast, and I also know the guy who won clocked something around 3:50 or 3:51. I know that international events can't be longer than 7 days, so they've added a prologue to make it 8. I learned the average speed of the fastest guys was nearly 36 miles per hour. I can't believe I've fallen this far. I'm blaming Brian--it's all his fault.

Honestly, I was the football-player type, I'll admit it. After cheering for some ungodly number of years, it was what I was accustomed to. Broad shoulders, big guys, not necessarily the smartest, but light years better than NASCAR... Then I fall for a cyclist, and he's sweet, and sensitive, responsive, and smarter than a box of rocks--but he's a cyclist. So, I've learned not to roll my eyes when the discussion turns to gear (as it inevitably does), nor get frustrated at his ability to eat everything in sight and never gain weight. It doesn't even bother me that his legs are sometimes smoother than mine--although it is a bit of a motivator. There are the upsides--he gets me out of bed a whole lot earlier on the weekends, he has more, ahem, energy, and well, he wears spandex--a lot.

I'm sure he was very excited when I told him of my voluntary venture to Versus, a sign of my acceptance of him and his passion. And I do, I love him, and how happy biking makes him. But, I just felt so ashamed...like I should go to a meeting, "Hi, my name is Katy, and I watched cycling."