A Somewhat Celtic Miscellany

I did a nice recovery ride at Hains today, providing your definition of nice includes 46 degrees, wind, and hacking up bits of lung all over the fringe of the golf course. Still it was good. When the ride started, I could barely stand up due to residual sore legs. When I finished, I could fall over and lay on the floor of my office crying like a girl due to the sore legs, no problem. Big improvement.

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Shhhhhh... be vewy, vewy qwiet. I am hunting the Ferraris, in their natural environment. This flock is an excellent example. Just look at their bright plumage. The two black ones, with less spectacular plumage, are the females.



This picture was brought to you by Google Earth, and Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom.

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You may think you are tough. In the grand scheme of things, you probably aren't.

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If you choose to ignore something, can you make it not true? How 'bout if the truth is something other than what people on both sides of an argument are saying?

Epistomological modesty, friends. It won't win you any headlines but it can be helpful to an inquiring mind.

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WADA has gotten very serious about catching dopers. At this year's Tirenno-Adriatico, WADA Officials disguised themselves as bushes in an attempt to catch dopers. It did not work, though former WADA chief Dick "Better than Ezra" Pound noted that the results were "somewhat piquant."



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Andrew Utz, in a plea to the cycling world, has asked that we stop using the term "epic." According to Andrew,

When did it become so fashionable to allow the descriptor "epic" to roll off the tongue when speaking or writing of almost anything related to our sport? The word "epic" should be left to lore and our heads should be brought back down from the clouds, lest we forget that just last year "epic" stages were won and marred by cheaters, not heroes.

Okay, Andrew. You got it. Next time I am reading Homer's Oddysey, I'll refer to it as "A Pretty Good Poem," rather than an Epic Poem. If I see some TdF rider win a stage by 30 minutes, I'll note, "that was a pretty bleh stage win." And if I go on an all day long mountain bike ride in Moab, I'll make sure to describe it as, "alright. Y'know. Pretty good."

I wouldn't want to wear out the word. Plus I use an asthma inhaler, so by definition I'm a cheater and can't have epic rides. BTW, Andrew, you clearly aren't actually into people being enthusiastic about the sport, so could you please turn in your 'cycling enthusiast card' at the door? I have a 'guy who sometimes rides a bike card' for you that will work just fine for your purposes.

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Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day, so I have a big hunk of corned beef simmering on the stove, and some potatoes cooking up to form the basis of some colcannon. I'll be getting a bit of Murphy's Stout on the way home tomorrow night, to drink a toast to the land (and its English overlords) that was ever so happy to see my ancestors hop on a boat, go away and stop bothering it with plows, cows, and sheep.

So happy St. Pat's to my friends of Irish descent and to my genuinely Irish friends. Why we celebrate it, when a more accurate name for the day, at least for us in the Irish diaspora, would be Good Riddance Day, is not entirely clear to me. I suppose that there is a reason: those familiar with the Irish mind know that doing something (like having a party or writing the greatest book ever written) for no apparent reason is more or less the normal modus operandi. Oh sure, you can dress it up with terms like "counterintuitive," "contrarian" and "independent." But we all know it has more to do with a national character that does not fit expectations well, a square hold and a duodecahedronal peg. We're a lighthearted version of the Scots (with whom I also share ancestry), basically. So, because it makes no sense at all, I celebrate the day and find it good.

To the rest of you? Well, enjoy a good excuse for a party. And please know, you look ridiculous in that Kelly green plastic bowler.

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Speaking of which... my favorite cycling degenerate whom I've never really met, Burt Hoovis, has his bracket posted on line. It's only his Sweet 16.

That's right, Hoovis only does 16. And they're all cycling hot chicks. Here's the bracket:


Hopefully he doesn't get pissed that I stole the image. Now get thee over to Hoovis' (NSFW) place and make some comments about your picks.