Perusing the profiles on the FitnessSingles dating app in the early summer of 2013, I observed that there were plenty of active women out there in the world, but not so many close to home in Batavia, Illinois. I signed up anyway, but was busy going to work and didn’t get to check it until later that afternoon.

As I’ve told the story many times to people over the last ten years, “There were women all over the country, and one in Batavia where I lived.” She was blonde and wearing a cute pair of white shorts, standing in a lake next to a beach. At first I thought she might be an Avatar, just a fake enticement to keep me using the app. But when I clicked on her profile it all popped up. “Hmmm,” I thought to myself on looking at her facts and figures. “Suzanne Astra. A triathlete.”

Then I muttered to myself, “Nice butt, honey” and clicked on the profile.

We chatted a bit through the app, then set up a date at a local pizza place called Pal Joeys. I showed up before she got there and was waiting in the front lobby when she walked down the stairs in a sleek black and white summer dress, gave me a big smile and a quick shake of her head that made the curls in her hair shimmer, and said “Hi!”

It was a humid and warm afternoon at an outside table next to the Fox River. We ordered artichoke dip with some chips and drinks. Our conversation was easy right from the start. She had a nice tan going in early summer and definitely looked fit.

Then I noticed that I knew the woman sitting at the next table over with her husband. Our eyes met and she smiled, so I said “Hi Rita!” At that point Sue turned around to see who I was talking to.

“Wait,” Rita said, quickly pointing a finger at each of us. “Are you two on a date? That’s perfect!”

Sue’s children had been involved in middle school music as well, so Rita knew all of our kids. She’d also known my late wife quite well. Knew of our long history with cancer survivorship, and Rita knew that I was an active runner and cyclist. We chatted with her for a few minutes and then turned back to our own conversation.

I learned that Sue was only recently out of work and looking for a new job. “The one thing I like about is having time for afternoon naps after training. I absolutely love a good nap,” she laughed.

A date on the move

Nothing about the date seemed strained or awkward. I really liked her from the start. We agreed to meet up for a bike ride later in the week. Sue showed up in some leggy bike shorts and a cool white top. I’d not been riding that much by that point in the spring but was starting to round into shape. I sat on my Felt 4C road bike and Sue leaned into her Scott aero tri-bike and we took off riding west of town.

Heading out Main Street from Batavia, I looked down at my bike computer and watched it creep up the digital dial. 19…20…21…22…23…we were humming along at race pace for me. I did my best to stay in her draft while guiltily staring at her nice-looking butt in black cycling shorts just a couple feet from my face. Then the pace hit 26 mph and I was at my limit. “You better not get dropped,” I told myself, “or you won’t get a second date.”

We turned onto a long stretch of road rising through the farm fields and she kept up the pace. On the last uphill section of 400 meters I got gapped a bit. She was ahead of me now and I desperately pumped the pedals trying to keep up, but couldn’t. I’d been dropped. Once we hit the flat section atop the hill I recovered some distance and rode up next to her hoping she hadn’t noticed. She smiled at me. “How ya doin?”

What a loaded question, I thought to myself. Should I be honest?

“Great,” I said. Which wasn’t entirely untrue. I was thrilled to be riding with a woman better than I was on the bike. When I started serious riding six years before in 2007, I was always impressed with the women cyclists from the Athletes By Design racing team with whom I trained. They were talented and strong, and I’ve always liked that in women.

Sue and I rolled out from the stop sign heading west past Johnson’s Mound Forest Preserve. I was glad we didn’t turn in and ride that loop with its nine-degree climb. I’d first trained as a runner on that hill way back in my Kaneland High School Days. As a skinny freshman that hill came as a total shock to my legs. But later in my career I used that hill in post-collegiate training and knew that I was in racing shape when I could run from the gate at the woods opening to the top of the hill in 3:00 or under.

We rode past the preserve and sped up down the long and winding stretch of Hughes Road to the next climb. On that one, my legs were enervated and I kept up fine. We reached Route 47, shot up to Keslinger and rode out to Kaneland High School where Sue pulled over and we took a break for nutrition while sitting on the grass.

“Have you ever been out here before?” she asked.

I laughed, turned around to look at the entrance to the high school and said, “Yes, I went to school here for two years.” Then I pointed to the line of trees out front of the campus and said, “I’ve run around this campus probably a thousand times.”

Sammies and convo

She broke out a set of meat and cheese sandwich bites and Sue delivered a cycling sermon on how real food beats fake nutrition. Those little sammies tasted good. She wrapped the rest in a little baggie and we headed back home. I was comfortable and warmed up by then. She seemed pleased to find a man that could keep her company on the road.

Here’s the thing: Online dating is both exciting and weird. It’s exciting (to me, anyway) to meet new people. But there is the inevitable weirdness of meeting people with whom you’re not compatible. But after meeting Sue and riding that twenty-five miles with her, I knew that we could get along great.

We’d definitely moved beyond the Avatar stage. She was a living, breathing woman who shared with me a ton of interests. Trained as an architect, she understood art as well. We liked the same music despite an age gap of eight years (she’s younger) and now she knew that I wasn’t lying about my athletic ability and love of fitness. “Well, that was nice,” I told her after the ride. “When do you want to go out again?”

Here’s the funny thing. It turned out she only lived six blocks away. Later that week I’d join her for dinner at drinks and meet her kids at her place. A relationship had begun.