You Look Like My Friend
My husband and I recently participated in a cycling fundraiser to benefit a local trail project. The sign-up cost included a swag bag, a safety-yellow t-shirt, coupons, the obligatory lip balm and a wrist band for admittance to the food tent after the ride. The morning of the event it was an absolute sea of safety yellow. Over 450 riders, mostly dressed the same. Only a hand full opted not to wear the t-shirt we had been given. I was one of them. It’s not my best color. And there were no pockets on the back to store my energy snacks, so I wore one of my favorite jerseys from another event I had attended earlier this year. After the ride, as we walked around, I searched the crowd for fellow club members who had mentioned attending but quickly realized that I wouldn’t recognize most of them if they walked up and punched me in the nose. Once we park our bicycles, remove our helmet and sunglasses, we are all strangely unfamiliar to each other. To make matters worse, most everyone was ...