Freds are on their bikes.
So I got passed this morning while I was taking easy over the huge rough patches where the asphalt has been gouged away from the path. It was a guy on a fixie, and he passed on the right (grrrrrr) while giving me the "looking-back-sneer-while-I-pull-away" treatment (grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr).
Of course I don't mind getting passed. I'm fat & it happens all the time. Especially in the winter, I'm happy cruising along and if someone zips past, more power to them. When I get passed on the right by some hipster who thinks he's tough, that rubs me the wrong way. As soon as I was back on the smooth stuff I stomped on the pedals and flew by him. I will admit I shifted too, but only to completely destroy this tool and leave no doubt that he could not catch me.
I felt foolish by the time I made it to the office, since I was panting like a dog after almost-but-not-quite sprinting the last half of my trip on the path. But it was worth it, and being reminded of how fun it is to go fast has probably convinced me to take the path home this afternoon and go fast then as well. I just hope no one I pass calls me Fred.
Current beer-scale: 8.8 and I'm having multiple flights of microbrew this weekend!