You look at the bike before the cyclist… After all, the groupset choice tells you all you need to know about a person, right?
You would never even consider wearing underwear with your bib shorts and, frankly, can’t understand why anyone would even think that was weird.
Slapping on a handful of chamois cream pre-ride is second nature and not remotely gross. Until a non-cyclist points out that it’s a pretty disgusting thing to do.
Your tan lines are a badge of honour and you don’t feel a jot of embarrassment at having a torso, half thighs and biceps which are a markedly different colour from the rest of your body.
When a non-cyclist suggests you keep your bikes in the shed, and you look at them as though they’ve suggested that you throw your children out on the street.
The only time your neighbours see you is returning from a weekend ride, sweaty and Lycra-clad. You’re not sure they’d recognise you in your ‘normal’ clothes with a head of tidy hair and no helmet.
You have a sneaking suspicion that they think you are much fitter than you really are.
You think nothing of getting up at 6am for a ride because the sun’s out, and a ride on a bright morning before the traffic builds up is worth so much more than a lie in…
Your colleagues no longer ask how you what you did at the weekend: they already know what you were doing (and don’t really care about your new route/favourite cafe stop/how your new bar tape performed)
Your regular socks cost £10 for 5 pairs, and that’s plenty, thank you. However, you don’t bat an eyelid at blowing £15 on a single pair of cycling socks in just the right shade to match your bidon and cap…
When you drive up hills, you find yourself feeling cheated out of a climb. And when you drive down hills…. you feel even more cheated, and ponder just how fast you could descend on your bike…