Today I decided to commute on my bike. My training is only 2 miles from my house.
I know... you’re thinking I could walk too, its not a big deal, but to me it is. I have wanted to commute to work on my bike since I moved here, which was more than 15 years ago. I attended a small college where I could commute everywhere and when I graduated I vowed to continue. I still haven’t worked up the nerve because I work in the worst part of town. Forget about the glass and the flat tire magnet debris scattered everywhere, forget about the lack of bike lanes, forget about crossing an overpass while cars are exiting on and off the freeway, it is just plain unsafe because it is a gang “claimed” hood. Let me put it this way, some long time residents never venture to my working neighborhood. I think about it all the time when I drive back and forth to work when I finally build the nerve, that morning a street is crossed off with yellow tape, I read about some drive by near where I would have to ride by and I just chicken out. I am one big scaredy cat.

But my training is in the direct opposite direction. It is being held in an all boy’s Catholic High School, so for the first time in my life I was able to bike to work today.
I already learned a few tips like:

1.Don’t wear pants that show butt crack
2.wear gloves its chilly in the morning
3.roll up pant leg
4.unroll pant leg (it took me until break time to do this, no one said a word to me, they just let me walk around class like a little goober...but my group is very forgiving, what can you expect from a jumper clad, seasonal sweater wearing finger waggers? Today we all are going to be on the don’t side of fashion, you may not be so lucky)
5.don’t forget keys in work place ( that can never happen when you drive but bike commuting...)

Boy’s schools are weird venues for training elementary teachers. They didn’t have enough women’s bathrooms so they converted their boy’s rooms to women’s restrooms. Most of my colleagues couldn’t get past the stinky urinals...not me.

There are no mirrors anywhere...one of my colleagues grabbed a colored lipgloss instead of the clear balm she usually wears and it was pretty funny because you put on lip balm much more carelessly than lip colored gloss...I didn’t tell her about that neither.


We have our lunch catered and they insist we wear our name badges so some of the catholic football team practicing doesn’t try to sneak in and eat our lunch, yeah I could see how they might mix us up.

The caterer is the same company our Deli Diva sang Aretha Franklin's motown hit, Son Of A Preacher Man

I am hoping they don’t recognize me, I don’t want my worlds to collide again. Maybe they won't ask to see my name badge.