How a Week Slips By
Man, it sure is easy for a week to slip away with nary a ride. Between two client meetings, a couple of 11+ hour days at work, a bit of rain, a little apathy and at least attempting to be a good father and husband a week's ride opportunities simply vanish. Oh well, I'll just call this a rest week and be good.
Thankfully, the next few days are looking better weather wise so a few rides for the end of the week may be on tap and hopefully a crit on Sunday (with a pre-ride at bradbury with my budy Kev maybe?) and Ricky will be a happy boy.
On the home front, we finally got our certificate of occupancy for the house. Good news! We can now officially move into the house we've been living in for about 9 months now. Maybe next I should get a drivers license considering I've been driving since I was 15 or maybe I'll get an architectural license since I've been working as one for 12 years (holy shit! I've been out of college for 12 freakin years. what an old fart).
Speaking of being an old fart. I'm officially moved up to the Vet. 1 category this season. 36 years young as witty folks like to say. Ever since I've started racing mountain bikes, remembering my age has been an issue. If somebody asks my age I instinctively blurt out my racing age, not my real age (35 right now but 36 before the end of the year) and then I have to do all sorts of confusing math type stuff in my bulbous melon in order to remember my actual age. I think there are some algorithms and possibly a theorem or two in there to make the complicated calculation.
Time to have some metamucil and a nice, mushy BM and yell at whipper snappers from my front porch.
On the home front, we finally got our certificate of occupancy for the house. Good news! We can now officially move into the house we've been living in for about 9 months now. Maybe next I should get a drivers license considering I've been driving since I was 15 or maybe I'll get an architectural license since I've been working as one for 12 years (holy shit! I've been out of college for 12 freakin years. what an old fart).
Speaking of being an old fart. I'm officially moved up to the Vet. 1 category this season. 36 years young as witty folks like to say. Ever since I've started racing mountain bikes, remembering my age has been an issue. If somebody asks my age I instinctively blurt out my racing age, not my real age (35 right now but 36 before the end of the year) and then I have to do all sorts of confusing math type stuff in my bulbous melon in order to remember my actual age. I think there are some algorithms and possibly a theorem or two in there to make the complicated calculation.
Time to have some metamucil and a nice, mushy BM and yell at whipper snappers from my front porch.
1 comment:
I'm still more f*cked up. When I read you were 36 I thought "hey, he's older than me". Only to then realize I'm 38 going on 39. FRIG!!
Happy Birthday.
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