A number of things happened on Saturday to steer me back towards all that is good and true.
I finally got beat in golf. After an unprecedented string of victories I fell victim to a nefarious conspiracy by my peers. It was a classic set up, involving everything but the mysterious beautiful woman (Thanks for nothing guys!)
The set up: a late night out the night before. My playing partners kept me out to all hours of the night, sacrificing themselves and their game to insure my depleted condition in the morning for:
the ringer: The 11th hour inclusion of a rested and ready mystery partner. He was motivated and hungry for blood, and he got it.
At least I whipped his patsies.
I discovered my vehicle, pictured above, in this sad state upon returning back to my friends’ house, victim to a violent storm.
Talk about insult to injury.
The combination of these events, enhanced by the the looming start of the Tour de France points me unquestioningly back to the bike.
Mother Nature’s gentle reminder of how I have strayed from her woods in favor of a Disney’fied version of the outdoors is a point well-taken.
While I will likely continue to lay waste to my adversaries occasionally on the golf course, I am not- and will never be-truly of that world. Like Dikembe Mutombo on the basketball court, I will always be slightly out of place removed from the jungle environs of my raising.
So, sometimes we date the wrong people.
Sometimes we eat the wrong food.
Sometimes we say the wrong things.
And sometimes we play the wrong game.
See you on the trails,