"Hey ladies, just thought you might like to see what a real golfer's body looks like."
That's me in the center, in the slimming black "Twin Six" kit. Brian on the left (my right) and Wesley on the right (my left). Photo by Pat Cash. I would say "courtesy of Pat Cash", but I didn't ask him. I'm sure he'd be cool with it, because he's courteous, but you never know. I really do hope it's ok, though, because otherwise all I've got is this artist's rendering ...
Even though I've abandoned riding for the more noble endeavor of golfing, Sunday came with the realization that I'm always going to be a cyclist. Riding is a blast. There's no way around it. And not just riding. Riding hard. I can't help myself. I went as hard as I possibly could for much of the ride. There's nothing like the feeling of putting the hammer down, exiting the workshop and going for a hard ride. My accelerations were ungodly. My form unmatched. Bystanders were vigorously barking on me.
This was all fun and games until the road went up. Even the slightest hint of an incline put me instantly in "The Hurt Locker". It's been years since anyone on anything other than a road bike has passed me on the way up a hill. Unless you count Sunday. Oh yeah, I remember. Here come the 12 year old girls. Hi girls. Nice streamers. Ok, you go on ahead, I have to check on some things while I climb this hill. Oh man, I am SO going to coast past them after I crest this thing. Whoosh!
So I got into Ft Calhoun after roughly an hour. Not Bad, considering.
I saw several old friends. Named things like:
Munson, Randell (with hair on his legs), Redemske, Keffer, Bazant, Armstrong, Ed Brown, Wesley, Gordon, Ellis, Savoie, Brian C. Just kidding about Armstrong. He's not a friend of mine.
But most importantly, I seen Shim. He made some gesture toward me that I can only assume meant "Way to go, sport!" He grabbed his right cheek (of his face) and rapidly slapped it repeatedly against his gums, making, well a loud cheek-gum-slapping noise. I responded with a subtle and confused wave.
By the end of the ride, I had nothing left - other than the uphill ride home. Oops.
I have a strict policy of never getting off the bike and walking due to lack of fitness, so I was concerned about getting home. I did something I've never done before. I took a longer, flatter route to get home. I don't think I'd have made it otherwise. "A man's got to know his limitations," as Clint Eastwood said in a movie that is not called "The Hurt Locker".
6 comments:
Next step....downhill mountain biking! and golf of course
Yeah - you may be right. My added weight really propels me down them hills.
I was gesturing that it looked like you had something jammed in between you check and gum, then I realized it was just a bigger check and gum than I had ever seen on you before.
I think you have something caught between your spell check and gum. Let me explain what probably happened. Each night, I have a big huge bowl of Ice cream with all "the fixins". The swelling you saw is most likely an allergic reaction to the nut topping. Very observant, though. Kudos.
Well played Mr. Cube! Yes, cheek and gum, perhaps I need to switch to ice cream and lay off the tequila.
I wish I could have been there to seen you. But even more, I've wish I knew how you did that pixel rendering artwork. Truly, that's fantastic!
Writing and drawing, you're the complete deal, Fred. I can only imagine what you would have become if not for that unfortunate incident with the stained glass.
Post a Comment