I recognise I made a joke of only waving at pretty female cyclists. So don’t wish to appear as a genderist.
But, this is a true story involving a pretty female cyclist. I was camping touring in the Highlands, the weekend before Etape Loch Ness. Suffering up the fecker of a climb out of Fort Augustus (if you know, you know). About three quarters of the way up, a female cyclist catches up with me, and noticing my luggage, starts a friendly chat. Where you going? Where you come from? Where you staying? Yadda,yadda, whilst spinning for fun and being in total control of her breathing.
Me, I was at my limit and then some. Huffin n puffin out of every hole. I almost wanted to say ‘FO b…’ but that wouldn’t be game.
Anyway, she rode on, turned around at the summit and back down to repeat. She was exceptionally fit and likely doing final prep for the following week.
So, I kinda empathise with those people who say they want be to left alone in their suffering.