Per Lizzie's invitation, here is my attempt to fill her rather large blogging shoes.
First, here is a summary of what has transpired in the 3 hours that I have been home since Lizzie has left for Wisconsin... I have watched 45 minutes of basketball and 2, 1-hour episodes of Modern Marvels, which I recently determined is my favorite show on television. The missing 15 minutes was spent heating up some leftovers for dinner. For a guy like me who can comfortable get lost in his head for the entire 14 hours per day that he is not at work (not to mention 8 or 9 out of the 10 hours at work), this is about as exciting as it gets. I imagine by now you are all shaking your head, or perhaps uncomfortably averting you eyes, as you mutter, "Poor Lizzie...how does she survive such a Lesser Half?!" Honestly, I'm not sure how she does it. Anyway...
I bike to work everyday, and I don't wear spandex. Or I should say that I do not wear the "bike commuter's uniform" typical to Seattle, which is full spandex; I wear bike shorts covered up by 3/4-length blue jeans on the bottom and a windbreaker on the top. Not that I have any problem with bikers that wear spandex, I just do not for the life of my understand why it is so prevalent. Somebody please, tell me what possesses the scores bike commuters that I see every morning to clad themselves in form fitting spandex?
Is it really a comfort thing? Yeah, it moves with your body, but does that require that it be your only layer of clothing? Plus does that really outweigh the fact that you are wearing spandex? Is it a speed/wind resistance thing? The competitive advantage strikes me as non-existent. Unless you are actually racing a road bike.
As you can see, I have thought long and hard about this, and the only reason I can come up with for cladding myself in spandex on my daily commute is humiliation. Not my own humiliation, Baby Tad's, of course! As a soon-to-be girl-daddie, and I hope she will grow into a healthy, well-adjusted teenager, will it not be my job to be the guy who she would rather not admit is her father? Is that why all those other commuters do it?
I imagine that I am going to humiliate Baby Tad in plenty of other ways (thinking back, the fact that my dad used to wear dress socks with shorts used to mortify me). In the mean time I will stock up on spandex in case I ever need to embarrass the hell out of her.