A Thousand Times No

Confession: I’m a gear junkie. If something is vaguely gadget-like, there’s already a reasonable chance that I might covet it. Should that item actually serve some functional purpose, my resistance is virtually nil. (Witness this past Friday.)

I’m not sure, then, how I managed to live until now without owning a pair of arm warmers. They’re used by cyclists to supplement short-sleeve jerseys — essentially, they’re a traveling pair of close-fitting long sleeves. Last month I bought a set that was being cleared out from a local sporting goods store at half price. “These will come in handy some day,” said the Tiny Rationalizing Voice in my head.

That day was today. Despite our warm and sunny afternoons, the mornings and evenings here are still crisply cool. After biking across town this afternoon to visit friends and have dinner, I needed to pedal back home around sundown. My blood had made a post-prandial beeline for my stomach, and I would be riding in along a heavily shaded creek bed for much of the route. I would feel quite chilly in short sleeves. Ding-ding-ding: Gear alert!

I broke out the arm warmers, which are solid black in color. Unlike the loose-fitting knitted leg warmers of the “Flashdance” era, today’s arm warmers are spun from nylon and Lycra. I felt a mix of purposefulness, self-consciousness, and excitement as I pulled them on.

Then I looked down at my hands. The black arm warmers flowed right down over a pair of black, knuckle-length biking gloves that I was wearing. I couldn’t help but laugh, because between the limb getup and my Fat Cyclist jersey I looked like a leftover superhero: Pudgy Ninja! Fighting the forces of ectomorphism!

Fortunately, this did mean I had the power to stay warm on my return trip. Armed with the technical gear (and the adipose), I had it covered.