I have an unwritten rule, always, to not be friendly at the gym.  Chances are, if you smile at anyone in such a testosterone driven environment, they think something other than pure kindness. Since I have gotten older, I have relaxed on that rule and only talk to men that I have seen twenty or more times and appear to be well over 60. Safe.  In fact, I have one friend at the gym, Jim that saves my stuff I forget on the reclining bikes until I remember and dash back in the gym. In fact, that is the only reason I had ever spoken to him. We had been riding bikes side-by-side for months until this last concussion has shaken everything loose and I can't remember anything so he has been kind enough to save my phone, book, or whatever else I have left. Anyway, today was a little different. I alternate between the reclining bikes and the road bike equivalents in the bike room. Today, I clipped in and went going about my regular work out. I am safer on the stationary bike - side note - especially after this weekend and the ride before that Todd said was going to be fine, but we got caught on the backside of Usury in 40 degrees and a rainstorm without bike lights. Would have been nice to have lights, maybe some windshield wipers for my glasses.  Did anyone stop? The Sherriff that passed us? No. Why would they? We were the idiots out there. Not them. If you are going to be crazy enough to ride in those conditions, you surely don't want a ride. Obviously, they didn't realize this mentality was not a group effort but that of our fearless leader. The follower had much fear. I survived that ride, picture attached. Next ride this past weekend, Todd was leading and hit some sort of metal because, I have never seen this and I have seen a lot on a bike, his tire exploded. He must have hit some sort of metal that split a gash in his tire from rim to almost rim. All I saw out of the corner of my eye was a flash of white and big bang. What did I do? Instinctively, close my eyes. Yeah, I know. If you had to have a license to ride, they wouldn't issue me one. Anyway, it looked like a soda can exploding. We traded out inner tubes, started filling the tube up, and bang again. This time it didn't matter if I closed my eyes because my feet were on the ground. And I did. The tube burst again, too much pressure on that spot. So I rode the eight miles back home alone, past the spot of my last crash with no problems, making me wonder as I pulled in the garage if I left my road accident problems on the side of the road eight miles back? O.K., food for thought. Stick with me, I promise; I'm back to the gym. So, I am riding away, listening to my iPod that I was so proud to have fixed myself. Well, two hours on the phone with Apple this morning, and myself. And I really wasn't as dumb as the first girl made me sound. She was breathing too much recycled air because the screen she said I should have been seeing before they transferred me to two more people hirer up the chain than her really was not the screen that I was seeing. Yeah, and I can double a recipe while folding laundry and disciplining children so, so much for you techies. Try that! Anyway, proud of myself and pumping on a stationary bike so hard that I think I am moving, I see out of the corner of my eye, the door open. No one usually comes in that room, not today. I casually look left and see who I can outride today. Before I know it, someone is talking a mile a minute a couple inches from my face and I have no idea what he is saying. I remove my one headphone to hear him ask how long I was planning on riding. Because he has been out there lifted all his weights talked a lot, I am still on this bike, and he wants to know why. I still leave one earphone in because I think this is going to be a short conversation. He goes on to tell me that he is 72 and needs to get rid of his belly. He is in great shape otherwise. I was shocked he was 72 because he didn't look that old. He asks if the bike will help him get rid of it while patting a solid bulk that appears to be about six months pregnant. He then leans back to show me why it hurts when he does stomach exercises and I almost tumble forward clipped in on my stationary bike. Good thing it was stationary because I would have for sure gotten another concussion. Conrad, that's his name, I find out after a lot more other important information, has what appears to be an alien protruding out of his stomach cavity. Maybe the red face and curly hair reminded him of Sigourney Weaver and therefore the need to show me his alien. I was already frightened when I saw it through the shirt, but for good measure Conrad wanted me to get the full visual affect, so he lifted his shirt while telling me he is having to take Milk of Magnesia now because things just aren't working out right. Yeap, it was worse without the shirt and explanation.  I don't know, other than the invisible sign that is always over my head that says, "Tell me anything you want to. Come on. Try me." I told him I thought he must have a hernia and he had better get that looked at. His buddy last week told him the same thing. Because he is old, he keeps forgetting to call the doctor he said. I told him to hold off bike riding until he had talked to a doctor, since I really don't qualify. Just don't tell my kids that. I made the mistake of mentioning that I had had four children. He couldn't believe it and went on to tell the troubles his daughter and wife had had with their stomachs after they had had children. He asked if he could touch my abs because they looked so flat. I guess this was OK since he had shown me his bare alien, that he takes laxatives, and I have know him for only five minutes now. What were abs through a shirt? I could hear Todd in the back of my mind - no filter and no personal space. I believe that now. Conrad then asks if I was flexing. Bless his heart. I told Kylie the whole story on the way home from school and she thinks he must have been missing something upstairs. I told her no, that that was just going to be me in about 30 years. She confirmed why now and then she will not take me anywhere. She is the most like Todd. Conrad then asks if the bike is OK to ride….ugh yeah… why wouldn't it be. Maybe because after prostate cancer you should not ride bikes, so says the doctor. And I would know this because…… he told me. And since I am a girl, he went on to explain why it was not good, just in case I wasn't aware of all the hazards of biking for men. Unless he plans to be Methusala, I think that horse can go ahead to the pasture. Since he wasn't keeping much to himself, I kept that tidbit. At this point, another gentleman comes into the bike room, and Conrad formally introduces himself and his poor son. I say poor because the kid, who looked like a 20 something Thor, wanted to crawl under a bike after his Dad explained our conversation about his alien, his need for laxatives, his post problems with prostate cancer, reminded him to call a doctor, my four children and abs. Thor didn't ask to touch my abs, and luckily Conrad didn't offer, which was good. Short term memory does have its benefits. I kept riding during all of this. Conrad goes onto explain to Thor this middle-aged lady's regimen like I'm some fitness guru. Thor was beyond polite and respectful seeing that he could have lifted the building with his pinkie. It was fun to watch, I think Thor changed more colors of red and beaded more sweat than in that five minutes than any of his workouts combined. Conrad was done and I wished him luck at the doctor, he wished me luck on the rest of my ride, and Thor wished he had never gotten a membership at this gym. I hope Conrad gets his alien fixed, I hope my children are as kind to me as Thor was to his aged father, and I hope the next time I saddle up in the bike room, my neon sign over my head isn't flashing.