FEB 14, 2011 – 12:00AM

The other night, I was working ahead a bit on today’s pages, and I noticed the date was Feb. 14 and wondered, out loud, if I had still time to get my sweetie something for Valentine’s Day.

A co-worker chuckled at my plight, then suggested I bake her (my better half, not my co-worker) a batch of red velvet cupcakes.

I explained my wife (and my valentine, coincidentally; luckily, they’re one and the same) isn’t particularly picky when it comes to desserts, but that she can’t stand red velvet, for some odd reason.

So my co-worker suggested I put something sappy in my blog and tell my wife that’s her Valentine’s Day gift.

As I turned that over in my mind, another sports staffer was drawn into the conversation.

“So my GF said I don’t have to get her anything,” he said. “Does that mean I’m off the hook?”

I laughed and assured him it meant just the opposite.

I translated: “You don’t have to get me anything” really means, “You’d better get me something — nice — or you’re in big trouble.”

Thinking back to my own plight, I recalled a similar discussion with my wife. Over the past few gift-giving holidays, in an effort to be more frugal, my wife declared we weren’t going to give each other gifts. Nothing for Christmas. Zip for Boxing Day. Nada for Groundhog Day.

Heck, even our anniversary passed without so much as a trinket. (I, at least, got her a card. I got … nothing. My wife is a HUGE card freak. She keeps cards for all occasions on hand just in case and spends hours picking out just the right one. She sends cards thanking people for sending thank-you cards. Hallmark calls occasionally just to see how she’s doing and to thank her for her patronage. A lesser man might consider the cardless passing of the anniversary of our holy matrimony as something of a personal slight, but not me. No sir. Nuh-uh.)

I thought back to the no-gift decree and realized it hadn’t been reiterated this year. What if that was so last year?

So I went into big-dumb-guy Valentine’s Day panic mode and ticked off the possibilities. Flowers? Too late. Candy? Nah. A nice card? Not enough.

I think my Valentine’s Day gifting hit its peak years ago, when I made a shoebox mailbox like we used to make in grade school. I decorated it with construction paper and made a little flag, then bought several bags of those cheesy grocery-story valentines. On each one, I wrote a different equally cheesy valentine’s message — stuff that’d made conversation hearts read like Keats — and stuffed the box with ’em. I don’t think she was nearly as impressed as I was.

Hmm … a blog, huh?

I tossed the idea around in my tiny mind.

How could I weave, with my paltry word-weaving abilities, a blog about cycling into a fitting V-Day tribute to my lovely wife?

After all, I reckon cycling has ruined more relationships than it has saved. Cycling can be a demanding mistress, and though I’ve not often sensed much jealousy from my gorgeous, beloved bride toward my drab-by-comparison (but beautiful in their own way) bikes, I know sometimes she indulges my commitment to all things two-wheeled.

Not to get all kinky, or anything, but the idea of getting my wife and mistress (metaphorically, of course) together was …intriguing.

But how?

Just last year, I sold off one of my beloved bikes to buy her a new one. If that’s not love, what is?

I considered squeezing myself in a red Lycra bodysuit and delivering a Valentine’s Day message to her work place, but, well, it’s been a long winter, and this body’s not going anywhere near a bodysuit. (Consider that a gift in itself).

I could tell my stunning bride I ride for her, that I take this death-do-us-part bit seriously and want to live long just to enjoy every possible second of our union. But in addition to being a real head-turner, not to mention kind and perceptive and loving and giving, my wife’s also awfully, awfully smart, so she’s likely to see through that hooey.

So, yeah, I’m at a loss how to dig myself out of this hole.

Anybody have an easy — and quick — cupcake recipe?