Thursday, May 7, 2015

The W's

Qwadsworth: winning races faster than I can create hastily photoshopped memes of him winning races.  So, too, it might be said for local roadie superstar turned calf model, Will Leet.  And let me tell you - I put minimal time and effort into those memes - so this is really saying something about the speed with which these dudes are racking up the W's.

Tertiary side note: I hereby copyright the band name "The W's."
Can I do that?  As a frame of reference for your legal guidance, I have no musical talent whatsoever.  So maybe I can just buy it, sit on it like I'm some kind of domain name investor, and wait until a great band comes along and says, "hey, we'd like to buy that name from you because, fuck you, that's our name."

You'll have to talk to Thews sheet metal in Pendleton, Oregon, whoever you are.

Do I actually have any bike-relevant content to share this week?  I'm sort of losing track.  I've been riding a lot, so that's worth mention I guess.  In an effort to, once per year, take Keenan on a night ride through the fringe where he would have been better served with a snorkel than a bike, I did that again.  It's amazing what 1 inch of rain from a thunderstorm looks like when it's actually on the ground.  I'm talking, like, 5 feet of water or whatever, trees floating down the river and what not.  Full moon socked away behind the cumulonimbus, nowhere to be found.  Maybe next time.

Also, I've been training.  Some of that is just via our local standard of physical fitness assessment and self-loathing, Tuesday Night Worlds.  Other parts or my elite training regimen require more weighted resistance, some of which I acquired as a birthday present that I couldn't be more excited about unless it had rocket propulsion (which it sort of does.)

But generally speaking, I've been riding, and on the tedious pendulum of streaky dad fitness, I'm as far in the fit direction as I have been in quite some time.  Plus, I've got a posse of thugs to back me up.
The nature of mutability, entropy, and dad fitness being what they are, it's all downhill from here.  And not the good kind downhill.

At any moment, I'll have the flu, or a work travel road show, or a blown back, or baseball to coach, or (insert dad responsibility here) and I'll go back to zero, just like we all do, because that's the very nature of our come-and-go inadequacy: The W's don't just stick around.

To always resume the process from the ground up up up.