Mr. HalfAss learns a lesson
Over the weekend, Mr. HalfAss cleaned his bicycle for the umpteenth time and noticed that one of his tires had a small cut in it. Rather than buy a proper, new tire, Mr. HalfAss went to his closet filled with HalfBusted parts and came up with a fine, HalfGood HalfBad tire. Mr. HalfAss installed the tire, and stepped back to admire his work.
Of course, the very next day, the HalfGood HalfBad tire flatted, and Mr. HalfAss was left to ponder the error of his ways. Doing something HalfAssed is never a good idea, but it always seems like a good idea at the time. Mr. HalfAss has made a vow to never do so again, and henceforth, he shall be known as Mr. WholeAss.
Due to training requirements, I have had no social life since September. This weekend, amidst back-to-back four-hour rides, I become massively social. The sailing coach who is battling cancer is hosting a regatta, and I should make the ride up to Mystic Lake to lend my support. The English teacher from 1984 is retiring, and I've been invited to attend his dinner in Newport. The Great Man Himself is coming to Boston on Sunday, and I've been invited to attend his speech at Tufts University. The wife is out of town and I've been invited to dog sit her three dogs. This is a lot to do.
Banged out two ten minute intervals at 300 watts this morning, and I felt like sheote. It must have been the hamburger I had for dinner last night. I always feel sluggish post hamburger. After a large pot of pasta, I feel great.
Of course, the very next day, the HalfGood HalfBad tire flatted, and Mr. HalfAss was left to ponder the error of his ways. Doing something HalfAssed is never a good idea, but it always seems like a good idea at the time. Mr. HalfAss has made a vow to never do so again, and henceforth, he shall be known as Mr. WholeAss.
Due to training requirements, I have had no social life since September. This weekend, amidst back-to-back four-hour rides, I become massively social. The sailing coach who is battling cancer is hosting a regatta, and I should make the ride up to Mystic Lake to lend my support. The English teacher from 1984 is retiring, and I've been invited to attend his dinner in Newport. The Great Man Himself is coming to Boston on Sunday, and I've been invited to attend his speech at Tufts University. The wife is out of town and I've been invited to dog sit her three dogs. This is a lot to do.
Banged out two ten minute intervals at 300 watts this morning, and I felt like sheote. It must have been the hamburger I had for dinner last night. I always feel sluggish post hamburger. After a large pot of pasta, I feel great.
posted by joe berkeley at 5:44 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home