Open Face

I put together two fresh roasted succulent bike rides on top of two slices of Saturday and Sunday, then slathered the whole thing in some afternoon golf and boy, was it delicious.

S'quatch and Topsie pulled me around by the nose out in the forest on Saturday where the Twilight trail was the consistency of pancake batter sprinkled with dirt. Those are good training miles, which is really all I can say about that. It paid off, because yesterday morning Hambone, Mystery the thoroughly tamed Stallion, and I rode some real trails on the North side and I felt much stronger for the previous day's suffering. We passed some folks toiling on some bike-related projects at the Redbug trailhead, but we kept our heads down, avoided eye contact, and nobody is any worse for the wear. Advocacy-it's what's for dinner.

After a quick change and some Publix sushi, I was right out the door to the links. I'm going to be so active this summer, I now refer to my house as the transition area.

While reclining apres golf at the local dining establishment
The Fourth Quarter I overheard a group of disheveled rummies applying their considerable forensic talent to the reconsideration of the OJ Simpson case. One particular gentleman was not at all convinced that Mr. Simpson committed any crime, noting the viciousness of heroin dealers and claiming to know more than a little bit about Mrs. Simpson's personal tastes and desires.

His companion simply muttered,"Mark Furman baby, Mark Furman."

It is a real nice place and I suggest you frequent it frequently.

Bushie and Tom T are back from the 12 hour of Tsali, and I expect a more detailed report from them tonight, but to my knowledge they acquitted themselves respectably and got a nice taste of the Tsali scene.

Me? Oh yes, I am back!

-Juancho

King of the Wagoneers

Going forward, you will often want to click the title in order to receive certain background information regarding the text of the BRC.

Ick ,my skin crawls just typing those first two words.

Fourteen hours round trip in two days, now that is what I call making it happen. Back in time for a quiet rainy Friday morning?

Even better.

I'm on the wagon. That's right, you read it correctly, and I am learning some things.

There are a lot more hours in the day when you don't have to schedule in drinking beer and defending your title on the dart board/ping pong table/chess board/ every single night of your life. I'm out like Justine Henin-Hardin.

Simple pleasures are simply pleasant, like waking up for no good reason at 6:30 in the morning to pet the cat and listen to how quiet the world is at that hour.

I can once again begin plotting for total dominance next season.

And now, the round up.

Bushy and Tommy Torso are headed off to Tsali for the 6 hour solo event today. Neither of them has ever ridden the trail. They will essentially unload their bikes and leap into competition on unknown terrain, the way the good Lord intended.

S'quatch is already bailing out for the weekend calling a "cinemical" due to the Tallahassee Film Festival. This heralds a new boom epoch in the proliferation of excuses.

Mystery and I double dog swear that we are going to put in some heavy miles this weekend.

Stop laughing, you are hurting my feelings!

That's all I got. I'm out of touch.

Report in?

Juancho

In a Moment

Time is confusing me lately. I try to be "in the moment" but the rules are murky on the exact length of a moment. Did one just pass this second? And damn, another one? Can a moment prolong or linger for years if the essence of the moment doesn't change as in--

"There was a moment in time during the 2000's where I worked in my underwear for 6 years?" I don't get it.

I do know that we are becoming rather cavalier with our perception of time. Everybody says "going forward" and it is causing me great anxiety. I hear this essentially as an absolution of the past, as in, "You are right, I have been stealing cookies from the cookie jar, but going forward I resolve to do better." There is a subtle implication in the phrase that implies the past means nothing.

I remember the first time I heard the phrase uttered. To avoid soiling my fingers this morning I refuse to type it, but it was in reference to waging wars of no relevance and what one might do going forward regardless of decisions which brought us to this point, this moment. The past is done son, so get over it.

It has gone much further now, and everything is going forward at such a rate we will all arrive well ahead of ourselves if we are not careful, standing somewhere with no idea of how we got there, or what we are supposed to do now.

I much prefer the dependably poetic, "from here on out" which signifies a vast and unknowable horizon as well as an awareness that in this moment, right now, one is making a change.

Anyway, thanks for listening. I need to get that off my chest this morning. In a moment I am on my way to beautiful Lake Guntersville, Alabama. This is one of the more mythical stops on my southerly route, as much for the fine people I know there as for the bucolic fjords and the sparkling water.

back in a moment,

Juancho