So on a scale of 1-10, 1 being the least cautious and 10 being hyper-aware of the contagious nature of Covid-19, I’m an ELEVEN! That said, crazy things always happen to me.
I know that when biking, I’m less likely to come close to anybody, but I pull my mask up whenever I pass. It’s a respect thing. And what if? Right?
Well, last week, I rode my bike on a trail and a man walked right in the middle of the path. I pulled up my mask and said, “On your left!” He didn’t respond, so I tried again as I approached.
“Sorry. You must not have—”
As I was about to say, “—heard me,” he farmer blew snot out of his nose. SNOT! I kid you not.
Grossed out, I shook my head and made a mental note not to drink out of my water bottle. Luckily, I had on my mask.
I stopped at the reservoir to take a picture and had passed another man while riding to the top of the rise. I had on my mask on while I heard his footsteps crunch on the gravel behind me. Without social distancing, he took a picture right next to me! Did I mention this is a humongous open space park?
I held my breath until he walked away. Then I took off my mask to breathe! Why did I take it off? It was so stupid. He was farther than six feet away, but I felt the heat rise in my cheeks in embarrassment. As if anyone watched and wondered.
Then, I rode around the reservoir and came to a hill. As I crested the top, a biker came out of nowhere. She gave me about three feet as she passed by and said, “How’s it going?”
I had my mask off and we were both huffing and puffing, so I felt like we just swapped spit!
I pulled up my mask and said to her back, “I would be a lot better if you would have warned me that you were behind me. I could’ve put on my mask.”
“It’s all good,” she said and waved.
Ha. Not good.
I rounded the corner and looked behind me. No one was around. I pulled off my mask and headed back home. While crossing a field, I relaxed and breathed in the fresh air and a giant grasshopper flew into my mouth! What were the chances??? I have been biking forever. Never has a bug flown into my mouth. I had a flying ant that flew into my nose when I was a kid but that doesn’t count.
Gah! After spitting a couple of times, I picked up my pace to ride the uphill climb home.
With the shitshow of craziness while biking with and without a mask, I hadn’t drunk any water. Colorado is semi-arid and my mouth was parched. When I finally rode into my garage, I pulled my water bottle out and drank a swig.
Then I remembered.
I can’t wait until ski season.
Have you got the mask-wearing thing down? Have you been biking? Has anything crazy happened to you lately?