Students, plumbers, doctors, lawyers, electricians, fighters, gamers, coders, painters, chefs, hair stylists, social workers, firefighters (lots of firefighters), bakers, mountain bike makers, sanitation workers, nurses, cops, paramedics, teachers, tree trimmers, sales people (persons?), bartenders, baristas, counselors, wait staff, whatever exactly Aimee and Desmond do all day. The list goes on and on. Some people drive up in fancy German cars, some people in beaters, some on bikes. The firefighters all have big trucks of some sort. Some members work out in Reebok and lululemon, others in boardies streaked with salt, and others in cut off sweats. There are ‘red states’ represented alongside people so left that it’s a wonder they don’t list as they walk. Some like boys, some like girls, some think love is all you need, others would rather be chained to a post than in a relationship. Some get “wow, you’re ripped” yelled at them when riding shirtless on a bike, others are counting each pound they shed. Some are pretty damn strong and fast, and some not so strong and fast, and just about every level in between. There are teenagers, a 69-year-old, and I turn 39 this summer. Age, profession, gender, politics, race, income level, sexual orientation, Seahawks or Niners, religious belief (or lack thereof), white or red, stout or IPA, fitness level, we all come together.
It’s a huge glorious melting pot.