I've caught up to Lance Armstrong ... almost.
Today, I was soaked in mud. Josh Kelley and I (who exercise today) usually either run (on average 3-4 miles) or mountain (trail) bike (5-8 mile) every two days. Today, hurricane #4 day, was a bike day, a mud day. A wet day. A day where you might see me and wonder what scared me so bad, with all that brown.
If I ever get eaten by a bear, you'll know the one that ate me right off the bat. It should be all scratched up and covered in brown. "Yep, that's the one that got Justin, but he sure put up a fight."
Anyway, sliding wet trails, puddles, mud, dirt clots, tires sinking ... nothing like that output of testosterone (and estrogen). On our way back, slathered in muddy clothes, a guy leaning against his car did the "Eat you up" sign to both Josh and I and (with a lisp) said "Yum and Yum". We both took it as our compliments for the week.
Feels good to get back in shape physically, like I'm going back in time to a point where I would never get tired. That was the closest to robot-hood that I ever was. I'd just run around in the woods knowing that I was a Cub Scout and simultaneously that I was the 7th great nephew of Daniel Boone. I was ready for nature.
Except for that whole bear idea.
Anyway, riding back home, mud grunged up my brakes and I almost hit a car at a stop sign. I was thinking, you always see people on TV who were saved from accidents by other people, and everybody gets to know one another and they become lifelong friends yatta yatta yatta...what if I ran into a car on my bike and just really acted like they saved my life afterwards. And really wanted to get to know them. A LOT. And I wouldn't let down even when I could see how anxious I made them. It wouldn't be quite the same. I think they'd run.
I would.
If I ever get eaten by a bear, you'll know the one that ate me right off the bat. It should be all scratched up and covered in brown. "Yep, that's the one that got Justin, but he sure put up a fight."
Anyway, sliding wet trails, puddles, mud, dirt clots, tires sinking ... nothing like that output of testosterone (and estrogen). On our way back, slathered in muddy clothes, a guy leaning against his car did the "Eat you up" sign to both Josh and I and (with a lisp) said "Yum and Yum". We both took it as our compliments for the week.
Feels good to get back in shape physically, like I'm going back in time to a point where I would never get tired. That was the closest to robot-hood that I ever was. I'd just run around in the woods knowing that I was a Cub Scout and simultaneously that I was the 7th great nephew of Daniel Boone. I was ready for nature.
Except for that whole bear idea.
Anyway, riding back home, mud grunged up my brakes and I almost hit a car at a stop sign. I was thinking, you always see people on TV who were saved from accidents by other people, and everybody gets to know one another and they become lifelong friends yatta yatta yatta...what if I ran into a car on my bike and just really acted like they saved my life afterwards. And really wanted to get to know them. A LOT. And I wouldn't let down even when I could see how anxious I made them. It wouldn't be quite the same. I think they'd run.
I would.