Lonely. I’m Mr. Lonely

My lovey doves OJT flew to Italy yesterday with her parents for a business trip. No, it’s not us. Yet. But I do hope that it’ll turn out to be us. You see, my OJT is my lovey doves. Problem is she doesn’t know that she’s my lovey doves. But that can be arranged, these minor details. All it takes is a lot of heart, a razor and some shaving cream. As Wayne said, “Oh yes, she will be mine.”

I tried to runaway from my sadness. And so I asked two of my officemates to join me in my suffering as we climbed Antipolo today on our bikes. The tall one bonked out on the first climb and we were forced to leave him behind. I tried to do the Lance Armstrong cadence tempo. It was working out well until I saw the display on my cyclometer – 10 kilometers per hour. And since my heart was beginning to show signs of failing anyway, I decided to stop with just 20 meters to go before reaching the top. It was pretty hot today and our plans of having our bikes blessed at the Antipolo church and celebrating the occassion with suman and kasoy ended up with two bottles of Gatorade and a new brake cable at Joven’s bike shop in Marikina.

On the way home, I tried to do the Lance Dance again going up to Katipunan and was pretty successful. I left the two and created a huge gap in an instant. I was strong. I was thinking about Mont Ventoux. Marco Pantani. The Alps. I thought this time I have the Maillot Jaune – the coveted yellow jersey. Then a cyclist on a road bike (a carpintero, perhaps) came from nowhere and overtook me.

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