This is what happens when it’s a recovery ride day and your coach says NO to the group ride you planned to join:
After riding v e r y s l o w l y by myself, I joined the group at the post-ride breakfast and spotted My First Crush working the bar. This boy was in 3rd grade while I was in 2nd, but we were in a mixed 2/3 class together and he was the first person to win my wee little six-year-old heart.
I’ve seen him around the breakfast place before and heard people call him by name, so yeah, I know without a doubt that it’s him. [And yeah, I feel like a creeper, no need to say it.]
He has no idea who I am or that I once tried to impress him by flashing my copy of “The Babysitters’ Club: Goodbye Stacey, Goodbye” (what I thought to be very mature reading material) while announcing excitedly that the pages smelled like Twinkies. It was to no avail; his heart belonged to a pretty blond third-grader named Amanda who wore Umbros and played soccer just like him. My shiny teal Umbros were not enough to distract him and my love was unrequited. As I sat at the bar this morning eating yogurt and watching him put on latex gloves and spend twenty minutes pitting olives, I felt okay about this. Olives are disgusting; Amanda can keep him.
You could have been emptying your trash when you saw him on the back of a truck!