So, earlier in the week I rang the afternoon program on our local ABC radio station, 702 Sydney. The host, James Valentine is a muso from way back as well as being quite funny. He also reminds me daily of a friend of ours who we don’t see nearly often enough. It’s comforting.
Anyway, he was running a segment about what age you can be when it becomes basically inappropriate for you to be playing the sport or engaged in the activity you have been quite partial to. You know, riding a Razer scooter over the age of 8, skateboarding when your more than 32, touch footy at 55 and so on.
I rang in to bring it to the attention of James that there was a whole cohort in the population flying in the face of common decency and indeed, this very notion that when you reach a certain age you have to walk away with dignity from certain activities. For the good of yourself and those around you.
This renegade group are called MAMILs – Middle Aged Men In Lycra. Men on bikes. I’m not talking about your hipster riding his fixy:
I’m also saying that the model showcasing this is not what you cop an eyeful of as you try to drink a coffee in peace on a Saturday morning in your local cafe:
These men spit in the face of human decency, pouring their tackle and guts into lycra and then putting it on bike for our viewing displeasure. If that wasn’t enough they then descend on your favourite cafe offending your eyes and olfactory system.
Sometimes you have to witness this:
Something has to be done.
I pointed out to James that for me, as a Fat Runner, I see all the fancy brand name gear (as I discussed here) and want in, but they don’t make FR (Fat Runner) sizes and that perhaps that is less a conspiracy on their part and more a community service obligation to save everyone’s eyes from seeing me squeezed into the fancy stuff and thereby resembling a running sausage. A kransky on legs if you will.
It was a delightful conversation full of self-depreciating mirth and good fun.
Fast forward to this afternoon. I’m driving along, listening to James when I hear my voice! He’s replaying our chat. I’m cracking up at myself because CLEARLY I am HILARIOUS.
It turns out I made such an impact I was up for the inaugural Legend of the Call – a segment in which he selects his five favourite callers of the week and then listeners text in their favourite.
OH YES I DID.
I’VE BEEN TALKING AND THINKING IN CAPS EVERY SINCE.
What a weird week of peaks and troughs it’s been – The Voice, The Hashimoto’s, The Oscar Dentist Experience, The LEGEND OF THE CALL VICTORY.
James and I had another lovely chat in which he asked if I was training for anything in particular (I filled him in on Tough Mudder) and I mentioned how if you ran into my while I was running it’d be like hitting a wombat.
So I win an ugly (their words) hat and a DVD AND am going to check in with James as I progress towards September and Tough Mudder and then talk to him after the event.
I can’t tell you people, fun. That’s what it is, bloody good fun.