Thinking back, The Presidential Physical Fitness patch may have been the first award I ever earned. From what little I remember about the first few years of elementary school, I remember not being too interested in the three R’s but being very interested in Gym, Lunch, and Recess. I remember my gym teacher, Mr. Maxwell, informing the class we had a test, and if we passed this test then President Gerald Ford would send us a letter and a patch for our book bag. Yes, back then we had book bags, not backpacks. I had an awesome Bobby Orr book bag, I was cool back then too. I thought Mr. Maxwell was the coolest teacher ever because he liked to play games with kids, he wore sweatpants every day and he had a mustache. Gee, thinking back, Mr. Maxwell’s picture in my elementary school yearbook looks eerily familiar to the current mugshots of most Level II & III Sexual Offenders. Just kidding, it was the early 1970’s and gym teachers wore sweatpants, had big hair, and sported mustaches………..and those were the male gym teachers.
I don’t remember all of the events involved in the Presidential Physical Fitness Challenge, but I do remember running around the school track, doing push-ups, sit-ups and hanging from a bar for some ungodly amount of time, I think it was called the flex arm hang. I can’t remember my scores or times, but I do remember eventually getting a letter and patch from President Ford. I may have been getting a C- in math, but I was ‘The Man’ in gym class. I still have the patch, and my mother probably has the letter in scrapbook somewhere in her attic. I’m not sure where the Bobby Orr book bag ended up, I bet someone (maybe my mother) is selling it on Ebay.
I was so excited early last week when my son informed me that he had a “President Test” coming up. Being a first grader, I fooled with him and asked why the President was coming to his school to take a test. He responded, “No Dad, the President doesn’t take a test, it is a gym test that I take”. Oh, Ok, now I was with him. I joked with my wife that George W. Bush was probably relieved as well, because I’d bet he’d have a hard time passing a first grade test. As with most busy little guys, I didn’t have too much time for follow-up questions, he was out the door putting on his bike helmet and begging to go for a ride. We went for a ride around the neighborhood, purposely jumping off every curb, skidding on every sand patch, and generally showing off for the ladies. I know, we are both idiots, he can’t help it, it’s genetics.
My son arrived home on Friday and announced to me that he didn’t pass the “President Test”. He didn’t seem depressed, he ran in the house like he usually does, threw off his backpack and wanted to play. Wait a minute, no playing, I need more information. I had tons of questions. I immediately morphed into Psycho Sports Dad and bombarded him with insightful questions such as “Why didn’t you pass the test?” and “What happened?”. He looked at me and calmly said what a father never wants to hear from a future runner, he said “I walked”. I returned with the gem, “You walked, what do you mean you walked”. My six year old son looked directly at me and calmly said, “I didn’t feel like running Dad” and ran off to build Lego structures. Ouch, an arrow to the heart. My wife tried to console me by mentioning that he is only 6 years old and maybe he didn’t want to run. My wife is the best. She always ‘gets it’. Again, that genetic thing
Well there it is. There goes his scholarship to Oregon. He will never run at Hayward Field, and he will never break a 4 minute mile. Psycho Sports Dad eventually calmed down. It actually took a kiss, a hug, and a “I love you Dad” for me to realized that in the grand scheme of things, a Presidential Fitness patch isn’t important. Having a son who is happy doing the things he does is important. If he was happy running (and walking) around the track, then so be it. Not everybody has a six year old Prefontaine in the making. I’m fine, I’m good, I’m content.
It is now Sunday evening, and my wife threw out her the usual Sunday night question, “What does your week look like?” I’m sure she was ready for my usual response, which typically goes, “Not sure, I haven’t looked at my schedule”. I know this drives her crazy and I have a great chuckle every Sunday night after I answer her. For some reason she never laughs. But tonight, I had a real answer for her, an answer she has been waiting over 10 years for, my response was “I am heading to the track Monday afternoon for some repeats”. Knowing that I haven’t run too much in the last month due to a lingering foot injury, she mentioned, “Do you think you maybe stay away from the track and speed workouts until you get a few more runs under your belt?” My response was, “I’m not running, your son is, he has another Presidential Physical Fitness Test next year“ You guessed it, I got “The Look”
P.S- I also told my son that if he could break a ten minute mile, I would buy him a Bobby Orr book bag.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Mad Libs
What a great weekend. My two boys were with my parents for the weekend and my wife had a three day conference at Foxwoods Casino. The weather was amazing with blue skies and temperatures in the low 60’s. What was a workout maniac to do? Do I ride in the morning and run in the afternoon or run mid-day and hit the gym at night? Do I go crazy, sleep in each day, and then try to squeeze in a run, ride, and gym workout each afternoon? Ah, decisions. Well, I did have a few other commitments on the calendar, it wasn’t going to be all exercise, football on TV, and take out. On Saturday I had a Fire Department training and on Sunday I signed up to volunteer at my running club’s annual Groton Town Forest Trail Races.
Instead of boring you with my usual humorous play by play reenactment of my workouts (and mishaps); I’m going to give you, the reader, a chance to guess what I did and experienced this weekend. I’m going old school on this one. How many of you remember the crazy Mad-Lib books that you could order from the school sponsored Scholastic Book Club catalogs? They gave you a sentence such as “Jim and ________ went to the ______ together and did________.” It was up to you to be creative and fill in the answers. I still remember my week’s worth of after school detention in 5th grade after Ms. Nelson found my Mad Lib book. I guess she didn’t agree with me that Suzy and Matthew did such things in the school gymnasium. I know, I was an idiot in 5th grade as well. I am asking you to ‘cut’ the following paragraph, fill in the ‘blanks’, and email me back the completed story. There will be two winners. The first winner will be the person who most accurately reflects what happened to me this weekend and the other winner will be the person who is most creative ( PG 13 or mildly rated R only please, my parents read this blog). Please email all responses to alm91397@verizon.net For your efforts each winner will receive (free of charge) a limited edition, long sleeve, 2007 Ayer Fire Department Thanksgiving Day 5K Road Race T-shirt. In a few weeks I will post my actual weekend, the best guess at the actual weekend, and the most creative account of my weekend. OK, go wild!!!!!!!!
On Saturday morning, I woke up after an uninterupted night of_________ and made my way to the _______ for ____________ training. There is nothing like _______ out a _______window with nothing but___________ below you. At 3:00pm, the ___________ was over and I went ____________ to prep my ___________ for a __________. I eventually hit the _________ and found my way to the ________ which led to the top of __________. Once at the top, you could almost see___________. There were ten___________ looking at me trying to figure out what was between my __________. Like they never saw a _________ before. The ______ was starting to _________ so I headed _______. Once__________, I decided to order___________ and watch_________ on TV. I don’t remember falling ___________, but I do remember waking up with ___________ on my face. It was _________, and I figured I could squeeze in a _________ before the ___________. I took my _________ and ________with me and hit the ___________. The________ was just starting to_________ when I ___________ a _________ in the middle of the ____________. The _________ must have been out looking for some___________ before the long winter’s _________ and looked at me like I was _________. I was never so __________ in my life. I slowly _______ off my _________ and _________ backwards very slowly. I was soon out of _________ and ________ off quicker than ___________ doing ____________ repeats. Needless to say, I returned home still ___________. Time for more___________, this time I ordered _________ for __________. A quick check of the________ and it was time to leave for the _______________. Arrived at the __________ and found I was assigned to the _____________ table and the ___________ line. Before I took my ___________ at the __________, I decided to ___________ the ___________. The _________ on the trails made it very ___________; it was difficult to know where the ________ and ________ were. I had a _______ out there all alone. The _________ was a huge___________, the ________ were as ________ as they were __________ after the event. There were some very fast________ this year. Actually, there was a _________ record in the longer______. I made it ________ by ________ to meet my ________ pulling into the ___________ with the__________ in the backseat. She seemed _________. I told her the _________ was pretty ___________ and that I really__________ her and the __________. She just gave me ___________. Oh, well.
Instead of boring you with my usual humorous play by play reenactment of my workouts (and mishaps); I’m going to give you, the reader, a chance to guess what I did and experienced this weekend. I’m going old school on this one. How many of you remember the crazy Mad-Lib books that you could order from the school sponsored Scholastic Book Club catalogs? They gave you a sentence such as “Jim and ________ went to the ______ together and did________.” It was up to you to be creative and fill in the answers. I still remember my week’s worth of after school detention in 5th grade after Ms. Nelson found my Mad Lib book. I guess she didn’t agree with me that Suzy and Matthew did such things in the school gymnasium. I know, I was an idiot in 5th grade as well. I am asking you to ‘cut’ the following paragraph, fill in the ‘blanks’, and email me back the completed story. There will be two winners. The first winner will be the person who most accurately reflects what happened to me this weekend and the other winner will be the person who is most creative ( PG 13 or mildly rated R only please, my parents read this blog). Please email all responses to alm91397@verizon.net For your efforts each winner will receive (free of charge) a limited edition, long sleeve, 2007 Ayer Fire Department Thanksgiving Day 5K Road Race T-shirt. In a few weeks I will post my actual weekend, the best guess at the actual weekend, and the most creative account of my weekend. OK, go wild!!!!!!!!
On Saturday morning, I woke up after an uninterupted night of_________ and made my way to the _______ for ____________ training. There is nothing like _______ out a _______window with nothing but___________ below you. At 3:00pm, the ___________ was over and I went ____________ to prep my ___________ for a __________. I eventually hit the _________ and found my way to the ________ which led to the top of __________. Once at the top, you could almost see___________. There were ten___________ looking at me trying to figure out what was between my __________. Like they never saw a _________ before. The ______ was starting to _________ so I headed _______. Once__________, I decided to order___________ and watch_________ on TV. I don’t remember falling ___________, but I do remember waking up with ___________ on my face. It was _________, and I figured I could squeeze in a _________ before the ___________. I took my _________ and ________with me and hit the ___________. The________ was just starting to_________ when I ___________ a _________ in the middle of the ____________. The _________ must have been out looking for some___________ before the long winter’s _________ and looked at me like I was _________. I was never so __________ in my life. I slowly _______ off my _________ and _________ backwards very slowly. I was soon out of _________ and ________ off quicker than ___________ doing ____________ repeats. Needless to say, I returned home still ___________. Time for more___________, this time I ordered _________ for __________. A quick check of the________ and it was time to leave for the _______________. Arrived at the __________ and found I was assigned to the _____________ table and the ___________ line. Before I took my ___________ at the __________, I decided to ___________ the ___________. The _________ on the trails made it very ___________; it was difficult to know where the ________ and ________ were. I had a _______ out there all alone. The _________ was a huge___________, the ________ were as ________ as they were __________ after the event. There were some very fast________ this year. Actually, there was a _________ record in the longer______. I made it ________ by ________ to meet my ________ pulling into the ___________ with the__________ in the backseat. She seemed _________. I told her the _________ was pretty ___________ and that I really__________ her and the __________. She just gave me ___________. Oh, well.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Superman!!!!!!!!!!
Ring Ring Ring Ring. I glanced over at my nightstand and noticed it was 6:30am. Why was my alarm clock going off, it was the weekend? I was sure I didn’t set the alarm clock the night before. I fully intended on sleeping until at least 7:00am, which is the generally the time my three year old comes upstairs and starts jumping on the bed like a Romanian gymnast. So naturally, I leaned over and hit the snooze button (habit I guess). Ring Ring Ring Ring, what the %$#@, I just hit the snooze button. After hitting the snooze button again, I heard a voice from the pillow next to me, “It’s the phone genius”. I didn’t glance over but I’m sure I was getting “The Look” I picked up the phone and managed a very scruffy “What?” I just remember hearing one of my riding buddies yelling something like, “70 degrees, Foliage, Group Ride, Killer Single track, Hill Of Death, Eight of us, Get up, Get dressed, Be at my house, Half Hour, No excuses” Then he hung up. Huh? I thought to myself “Am I dreaming?” Then I heard that familiar voice again, “No you aren’t dreaming, you were just talking out loud, that was your dingbat friend, get out of bed, get ready, and get over there now”. I thought to myself again, “My wife is great” The familiar voice appeared once again, “Yes, your wife is great, you are talking out loud again, get up and get ready because if you don’t, he will keep calling and I’ll never get back to sleep”. Ok, I take that back, my wife is kind of great, but a little selfish too.
The next fifteen minutes were a blur, out of bed, dressed in my coolest Hammer Nutrition gear, camelback filled, three gels and a still frozen waffle for breakfast, brain bucket on, and out the door. I chose my hardtail that day, I was sure there would be plenty of climbing and my hardtail, which is a climbing machine, weighs in at just over 19.4lbs.
I arrived at the meeting place and the gang was already discussing the route. It was decided that this would be approximately a 3 hour ride with tons of climbing and scenery. Less than a 1/3 mile from my front door is a trail that connects to the sweetest network of single track in the area. In the past, I have gone on 7 hour epic mountain bike rides with my tires only hitting pavement to cross the occasional road.
The ride started off uneventful, lots of conversation about annoying wives, kids, and jobs. Note to Leann, I did not complain about you, the kids, or my job. Note to Kim, Kevin did complain about you. Thump, Thump, that was the sound of me throwing Kevin under the bus. Just as we were approaching the trailhead, one of the riders, while reaching for his water bottle, drifted a bit, rubbed tires with someone else, and went right over the bars. He got up quickly and announced he was Ok. After we stopped laughing, I thought to myself “Good, the big crash is out of the way, now all I have to worry about is a mechanical issue” I also remember thinking "I didn't say that out loud did I?" I know I’m an idiot. I don’t know about you, but I would rather experience a pinch flat any day of the week versus taking that all too familiar, over the handlebar ride. Let me explain our little inside joke: it seems whenever we ride at least one person takes a bad fall, one has a major mechanical issue, and one has to leave early. If all three occur, we call it the ‘Tripe Threat”. You never want to experience the “Triple Threat”. The guys are relentless.
The first trail provided us with an ample warm up. It was pretty flat, not too technical, and begged for speed. Being fruitcakes, we gave in and opened it up a bit. After a few miles, we encountered what we locals refer to as, “The Hill Of Death”. This climb is just over 1/2 mile, but is an absolutely lung and heart busting climb. Very, very steep to say the least. Granny gear central. We eventually made it to the top (FYI, I smoked the boys on the climb, just call me Lance) and stopped to take in the views of Mt. Wachusett, Mt. Watatic, and the Monadnock Range. The foliage was beautiful, there were deep reds, vibrant yellows, crisp orange tones, just incredible.
Now was the fun part, the decent. I have ridden this trail hundreds of times. It is very tight, but smooth for the first ¼ mile, very few roots or rocks, just sweet bench-cut single track. It gets tricky about half way down, when the trail takes a sharp right and follows the direct fall line of hill. I did remember that I was riding my hardtail and I had to be a little cautious on the downhill and ride ‘off the seat’ a bit. I also remembered that I would have to brake a little earlier before the sharp right hand turn. The trail was covered in freshly fallen yellow leaves. These leaves seemed to provide a very soft feel. I let the bike go, I was absolutely screaming down this hill. The leaves were crunching beneath the tires and I was giggling like a little kid.
All seemed right in the world even though I lost thousands in my 401K earlier that week. I noticed the right hand turn was coming up, so I started to apply the brakes and my back wheel immediately locked up. Oh no!!!!! Some may think skidding is cool. Skidding is cool when you’re 6 years old and you’re locking up the brakes of your Stingray in the sand at the end of your driveway. Skidding is not cool when you are screaming down a hill on top of wet leaves with trees inches from your handlebars. When you skid, you loose control. Wait a minute, I thought the leaves were dry, yes the top layers of leaves were dry, but the leaves closest to the ground were wet from the morning dew. I didn’t panic, I’ve been in this situation may times before; I let off the brakes, shifted my weight and reapplied the brakes. More skidding. Oh $%&@, now it is time to panic. The turn was fast approaching; I was skidding, then accelerating whenever I let off the brakes, then skidding, and so on.
Remember when I said the trail followed the fall line after the turn? Ok, good memory. For all you cross country runners out there, what do they place on trails that follow the fall line to limit erosion? Guesses? Ok, I will tell you, they place water dams. What is a water dam you ask. Well, a water dam is a log semi buried in ground and placed at a slight angle so when water is running down a trail, it hits the water dam and is directed off the trail. The first water dam is located right at the apex of the corner and is placed at a forty-five degree angle. This water dam had about 6 inches sticking out of the ground.
Ok, picture this, a knucklehead screaming down a trail of wet leaves, wearing spandex that is way too tight, contemplating if he should lay the bike down or go for it……….all the while having his life flash before his eyes. Ok, here is the payoff. I didn’t lay the bike down, I decided (hoped, prayed, thought, wished, etc...) I could make the turn. I entered the turn way too fast and too high. I attempted to lift my front tire over the water dam, but it was too damn difficult because my front brakes were applied. I figured the slower I am going to softer the crash would be, so I kept applying my brakes. I did get my front tire up, but not exactly over the log. When I lifted the tire up, of course it stopped rolling because the brakes were applied (MTB 101, Duh!!!!). My front tire landed on top of the angled log, which was wet and very slippery. Guess what happens when a locked up wheel hits an angled, wet log? You guessed it, wash out. Before I had time to react, my handlebars were touching the ground and I was doing my best flying Superman impression. I remember thinking, “Please don’t hit a tree, please don’t hit a tree” Well, I hit a tree. Actually, I performed a textbook flying left shoulder block. The problem was that this flying shoulder block was performed on a large oak tree. Spandex vs. Oak. The smart money goes on the Oak Tree.
From what I remember, it really didn’t hurt too much. After a quick inventory, I jumped to my feet to see if anyone saw that yard sale. Most of them saw everything, and were in disbelief that my shoulder was still attached to my body. They laughed, they busted my chops, and it was just what I expected. I checked my bike over and just a few battle scars. Note to everyone, battle scars on you bike look cool, battle scars on your forearms do not.
One of my buddies yelled out, “That could have been a triple threat”. As I was brushing off, and collecting what was left of my ego, I stated, “Not today boys, a flying shoulder block into an oak tree ain’t stoppin’ this kid”. Needless to say, I rode pretty cautiously and in the middle of the pack for the rest of the ride. Three hour rides rock!!!!!!
I woke up the next morning feeling a little sore. I really thought my shoulder would feel worse than it did. It was another beautiful Fall day, sunny and in the 60’s. I didn’t have work on Monday (Columbus Day) so I decided to go back to the scene of the crash and ride the trail again. I really wanted to see where things went bad. I climbed the “Hill of Death” and started my decent. On the decent, I rode as slow as I could, I was in total control. When I came to the right hand turn, I noticed something hanging on the tree that I shoulder blocked the day before. Attached to the tree, was a bright neon orange poster with a picture of me on it, which stated, “If You See This Man, Tell Him To Leave Me Alone”. My friends are the best.
My friend was filming with his helmet-cam, here is a link to the video of the crash. Enjoy!!!!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJXU7EVXs2A
The next fifteen minutes were a blur, out of bed, dressed in my coolest Hammer Nutrition gear, camelback filled, three gels and a still frozen waffle for breakfast, brain bucket on, and out the door. I chose my hardtail that day, I was sure there would be plenty of climbing and my hardtail, which is a climbing machine, weighs in at just over 19.4lbs.
I arrived at the meeting place and the gang was already discussing the route. It was decided that this would be approximately a 3 hour ride with tons of climbing and scenery. Less than a 1/3 mile from my front door is a trail that connects to the sweetest network of single track in the area. In the past, I have gone on 7 hour epic mountain bike rides with my tires only hitting pavement to cross the occasional road.
The ride started off uneventful, lots of conversation about annoying wives, kids, and jobs. Note to Leann, I did not complain about you, the kids, or my job. Note to Kim, Kevin did complain about you. Thump, Thump, that was the sound of me throwing Kevin under the bus. Just as we were approaching the trailhead, one of the riders, while reaching for his water bottle, drifted a bit, rubbed tires with someone else, and went right over the bars. He got up quickly and announced he was Ok. After we stopped laughing, I thought to myself “Good, the big crash is out of the way, now all I have to worry about is a mechanical issue” I also remember thinking "I didn't say that out loud did I?" I know I’m an idiot. I don’t know about you, but I would rather experience a pinch flat any day of the week versus taking that all too familiar, over the handlebar ride. Let me explain our little inside joke: it seems whenever we ride at least one person takes a bad fall, one has a major mechanical issue, and one has to leave early. If all three occur, we call it the ‘Tripe Threat”. You never want to experience the “Triple Threat”. The guys are relentless.
The first trail provided us with an ample warm up. It was pretty flat, not too technical, and begged for speed. Being fruitcakes, we gave in and opened it up a bit. After a few miles, we encountered what we locals refer to as, “The Hill Of Death”. This climb is just over 1/2 mile, but is an absolutely lung and heart busting climb. Very, very steep to say the least. Granny gear central. We eventually made it to the top (FYI, I smoked the boys on the climb, just call me Lance) and stopped to take in the views of Mt. Wachusett, Mt. Watatic, and the Monadnock Range. The foliage was beautiful, there were deep reds, vibrant yellows, crisp orange tones, just incredible.
Now was the fun part, the decent. I have ridden this trail hundreds of times. It is very tight, but smooth for the first ¼ mile, very few roots or rocks, just sweet bench-cut single track. It gets tricky about half way down, when the trail takes a sharp right and follows the direct fall line of hill. I did remember that I was riding my hardtail and I had to be a little cautious on the downhill and ride ‘off the seat’ a bit. I also remembered that I would have to brake a little earlier before the sharp right hand turn. The trail was covered in freshly fallen yellow leaves. These leaves seemed to provide a very soft feel. I let the bike go, I was absolutely screaming down this hill. The leaves were crunching beneath the tires and I was giggling like a little kid.
All seemed right in the world even though I lost thousands in my 401K earlier that week. I noticed the right hand turn was coming up, so I started to apply the brakes and my back wheel immediately locked up. Oh no!!!!! Some may think skidding is cool. Skidding is cool when you’re 6 years old and you’re locking up the brakes of your Stingray in the sand at the end of your driveway. Skidding is not cool when you are screaming down a hill on top of wet leaves with trees inches from your handlebars. When you skid, you loose control. Wait a minute, I thought the leaves were dry, yes the top layers of leaves were dry, but the leaves closest to the ground were wet from the morning dew. I didn’t panic, I’ve been in this situation may times before; I let off the brakes, shifted my weight and reapplied the brakes. More skidding. Oh $%&@, now it is time to panic. The turn was fast approaching; I was skidding, then accelerating whenever I let off the brakes, then skidding, and so on.
Remember when I said the trail followed the fall line after the turn? Ok, good memory. For all you cross country runners out there, what do they place on trails that follow the fall line to limit erosion? Guesses? Ok, I will tell you, they place water dams. What is a water dam you ask. Well, a water dam is a log semi buried in ground and placed at a slight angle so when water is running down a trail, it hits the water dam and is directed off the trail. The first water dam is located right at the apex of the corner and is placed at a forty-five degree angle. This water dam had about 6 inches sticking out of the ground.
Ok, picture this, a knucklehead screaming down a trail of wet leaves, wearing spandex that is way too tight, contemplating if he should lay the bike down or go for it……….all the while having his life flash before his eyes. Ok, here is the payoff. I didn’t lay the bike down, I decided (hoped, prayed, thought, wished, etc...) I could make the turn. I entered the turn way too fast and too high. I attempted to lift my front tire over the water dam, but it was too damn difficult because my front brakes were applied. I figured the slower I am going to softer the crash would be, so I kept applying my brakes. I did get my front tire up, but not exactly over the log. When I lifted the tire up, of course it stopped rolling because the brakes were applied (MTB 101, Duh!!!!). My front tire landed on top of the angled log, which was wet and very slippery. Guess what happens when a locked up wheel hits an angled, wet log? You guessed it, wash out. Before I had time to react, my handlebars were touching the ground and I was doing my best flying Superman impression. I remember thinking, “Please don’t hit a tree, please don’t hit a tree” Well, I hit a tree. Actually, I performed a textbook flying left shoulder block. The problem was that this flying shoulder block was performed on a large oak tree. Spandex vs. Oak. The smart money goes on the Oak Tree.
From what I remember, it really didn’t hurt too much. After a quick inventory, I jumped to my feet to see if anyone saw that yard sale. Most of them saw everything, and were in disbelief that my shoulder was still attached to my body. They laughed, they busted my chops, and it was just what I expected. I checked my bike over and just a few battle scars. Note to everyone, battle scars on you bike look cool, battle scars on your forearms do not.
One of my buddies yelled out, “That could have been a triple threat”. As I was brushing off, and collecting what was left of my ego, I stated, “Not today boys, a flying shoulder block into an oak tree ain’t stoppin’ this kid”. Needless to say, I rode pretty cautiously and in the middle of the pack for the rest of the ride. Three hour rides rock!!!!!!
I woke up the next morning feeling a little sore. I really thought my shoulder would feel worse than it did. It was another beautiful Fall day, sunny and in the 60’s. I didn’t have work on Monday (Columbus Day) so I decided to go back to the scene of the crash and ride the trail again. I really wanted to see where things went bad. I climbed the “Hill of Death” and started my decent. On the decent, I rode as slow as I could, I was in total control. When I came to the right hand turn, I noticed something hanging on the tree that I shoulder blocked the day before. Attached to the tree, was a bright neon orange poster with a picture of me on it, which stated, “If You See This Man, Tell Him To Leave Me Alone”. My friends are the best.
My friend was filming with his helmet-cam, here is a link to the video of the crash. Enjoy!!!!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJXU7EVXs2A
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Labor of Love
A few years ago, actually almost 5 years ago to the day, a fellow firefighter (who is a runner) and I were sitting around the firehouse discussing our Thanksgiving weekend plans. He mentioned that he usually gets up at the crack of 4:00am, packs his running bag, meets a few family members for breakfast, drives over an hour to a relatively small unnamed Northeast Massachusetts town, and competes in a 5 mile road race that has over 3000 runners. I asked him what it is like to run with so many people on such a short course. He responded, “I hate it, I don’t know why I go”. I responded with the obvious, “Why do you go?” I don’t remember his answer, but he start rambling about it not being true race, he described it more as an ‘event’ than footrace. He complained about the soccer moms who run 12 minute miles and stage in the 8 minute mile section. He explained the parking situation was horrible, the pack doesn’t thin at all, the majority of the people don’t break 9:00 minute miles, and the frozen pie each runner receives isn’t that good. He told me it was a long standing family tradition to run in this race on Thanksgiving Day so he felt the need to continue to do so. Just joking, I asked him that if I organized a Thanksgiving Day race, would he run with us. He responded he would.
I immediately envisioned a nice easy Thanksgiving Day 5K road race sponsored by our Fire Department. I had zero experience with organizing a road race and had zero expectations that anyone other than my buddy and I would show up at this fictitious race. And since I am way faster than my buddy, I knew I would beat him and come in first place. Hey, as my once single brother-in-law used to say, “A hit is a hit, keep up the average”. I’m still not sure if he was talking about road racing wins or “Last Call” stats at a local bar in Central Square. The analogy works, so I’m using it.
What turned out to be an innocent conversation about holiday plans, morphed into me and another firefighter (a fellow runner and my next door neighbor) feverishly researching what is involved with staging a road race. I recruited my neighbor not only because I am also faster than him, but because he is a computer whiz and agreed to handle all registration and on-line duties. Note to all future race directors, find a tech savvy individual and con this person into handling all registration duties, provide cash and candy if need be, it makes race director life so much easier. We ultimately ran the idea by our Fire Chief, the Police Chief, and the Board of Selectmen, who all loved the idea and gave us the OK. Before we knew it, we had a race planned. We had no idea what we were doing or how the race was going to turn out, but we had a USATF insurance waiver in hand, and had Active.com & Coolrunning.com up and running dammit!!!!!!
I won’t bore you with all the organization details such as the countless race committee meetings consisting of just the two of us sitting around a kitchen table trying to figure out what we should do and when should do them. We tackled such topics as signage, volunteers, refreshments, t-shirts, sponsors, advertisement, course marking, etc... Please feel free to contact my wife and ask her about the amount of time involved in planning a race. I warn you, only do so if you really want to see her infamous 'Look’. She is really a softy and 'The Look' isn't all that intimidating, but I let her think it scares me, hey, let her feel good about herself. Come to think of it, I would love to see what “The Look” looks like directed at another person. But I will tell you that on Thanksgiving Day in 2005, 179 local runners showed up at the Fire Station in Ayer, Massachusetts and ran in 3 inches of freshly falling snow. As I think back, I still can’t believe that we staged a road race. There were no major problems, the timing company showed up, the porta-potties were delivered in time, nobody got lost on the course or broke any bones while running (actually if somebody got hurt, one could consider that job security, I know I’m an idiot), and there was plenty of hot coffee and hot chocolate after the race.
The Ayer Fire Department has an established charitable contribution wing called The Combination Company #1. Its mission is to contribute to our local community in the form of civic, charitable, public safety, literary, and educational purposes. Proceeds from our race will enable the Ayer Fire Department to continue to fund an established long standing scholarship at Ayer High School, support local high school athletic programs, provide support and education for the local community in the areas of fire and public safety, sponsor Senior breakfasts and dinners, participate in Ayer’s Annual Safety Day, and offer ‘Camp Pete’, an annual full day safety camp each summer for over 80 children. ‘Camp Pete’ has always been, and will be, free of charge.
Our race has grown tremendously each year since its inception. Our largest growth area has been in runners under the age of eighteen. It has been rewarding to see a family theme emerge within our race. As we scan the registered runners each year, we note not only the many familiar names who have been with us since the start, but the many runners with the same last names. It brings a smile to our faces when we notice that many individuals run together in large family groups. I don’t want to discount the number of quality racers who run with us though because we do have more than our fare share of ultra fast ‘rabbits’, so defined as anyone who can run sub 5:15 miles. So maybe that 1st place overall finish I thought about is out of reach.
We continue to strive to stage the best race possible and appreciate our sponsors who choose to lend support to our race, our volunteers who choose to assist us with staging our race, and our participants who run in our race.
Go on, admit it, pretty good for a bunch of firefighting runners huh?
We are heading into the 4th year of the Ayer Fire Department Thanksgiving Day 5K Road Race and I am pleased to announce that I am still faster than my two co-workers. We are expecting over 400 runners this year. I’m proud of our race. By all means our race isn’t perfect, I think the course is a little short, but hey it’s a 5K, and if someone runs our course a few seconds faster than a certified USATF wheel-measured course, who cares? Take the PR and go have a second piece of pie later that day.
Is being a Race Director fun? Not really, most of the time you are so focused on completing tasks and working off the ‘punch list’ that you never get to enjoy the process. Why do I do it? Simple. I owe it to you runners out there. As a Race Director, I feel that I ‘m doing my part for this wonderful sport. Over the years, I have competed in so many amazing races and it is all because someone stepped up and said, “I want to organize a race”. Call it giving back; paying it forward, you pick the phrase. Now don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a self ‘pat on the back’ article, but I just want you to think about that favorite race you circle on your calendar every year. Did you ever stop to think about the planning that goes into your favorite race. Did you know that the Race Director usually starts the planning process for the next year’s race a few months after the current race?
Do me a favor, the next time you attend a race and have a positive experience, seek out the Race Director and thank him or her. You don’t realize how much that means to someone that puts family commitments and their personal time on hold to plan such an event. Actually, don’t seek them out on race day, send the Race Director an email when you get home. The Race Director will probably have ten things going on at once and when you introduce yourself, the Race Director will forget at least five of the things he or she was juggling at the time of your introduction :)
I immediately envisioned a nice easy Thanksgiving Day 5K road race sponsored by our Fire Department. I had zero experience with organizing a road race and had zero expectations that anyone other than my buddy and I would show up at this fictitious race. And since I am way faster than my buddy, I knew I would beat him and come in first place. Hey, as my once single brother-in-law used to say, “A hit is a hit, keep up the average”. I’m still not sure if he was talking about road racing wins or “Last Call” stats at a local bar in Central Square. The analogy works, so I’m using it.
What turned out to be an innocent conversation about holiday plans, morphed into me and another firefighter (a fellow runner and my next door neighbor) feverishly researching what is involved with staging a road race. I recruited my neighbor not only because I am also faster than him, but because he is a computer whiz and agreed to handle all registration and on-line duties. Note to all future race directors, find a tech savvy individual and con this person into handling all registration duties, provide cash and candy if need be, it makes race director life so much easier. We ultimately ran the idea by our Fire Chief, the Police Chief, and the Board of Selectmen, who all loved the idea and gave us the OK. Before we knew it, we had a race planned. We had no idea what we were doing or how the race was going to turn out, but we had a USATF insurance waiver in hand, and had Active.com & Coolrunning.com up and running dammit!!!!!!
I won’t bore you with all the organization details such as the countless race committee meetings consisting of just the two of us sitting around a kitchen table trying to figure out what we should do and when should do them. We tackled such topics as signage, volunteers, refreshments, t-shirts, sponsors, advertisement, course marking, etc... Please feel free to contact my wife and ask her about the amount of time involved in planning a race. I warn you, only do so if you really want to see her infamous 'Look’. She is really a softy and 'The Look' isn't all that intimidating, but I let her think it scares me, hey, let her feel good about herself. Come to think of it, I would love to see what “The Look” looks like directed at another person. But I will tell you that on Thanksgiving Day in 2005, 179 local runners showed up at the Fire Station in Ayer, Massachusetts and ran in 3 inches of freshly falling snow. As I think back, I still can’t believe that we staged a road race. There were no major problems, the timing company showed up, the porta-potties were delivered in time, nobody got lost on the course or broke any bones while running (actually if somebody got hurt, one could consider that job security, I know I’m an idiot), and there was plenty of hot coffee and hot chocolate after the race.
The Ayer Fire Department has an established charitable contribution wing called The Combination Company #1. Its mission is to contribute to our local community in the form of civic, charitable, public safety, literary, and educational purposes. Proceeds from our race will enable the Ayer Fire Department to continue to fund an established long standing scholarship at Ayer High School, support local high school athletic programs, provide support and education for the local community in the areas of fire and public safety, sponsor Senior breakfasts and dinners, participate in Ayer’s Annual Safety Day, and offer ‘Camp Pete’, an annual full day safety camp each summer for over 80 children. ‘Camp Pete’ has always been, and will be, free of charge.
Our race has grown tremendously each year since its inception. Our largest growth area has been in runners under the age of eighteen. It has been rewarding to see a family theme emerge within our race. As we scan the registered runners each year, we note not only the many familiar names who have been with us since the start, but the many runners with the same last names. It brings a smile to our faces when we notice that many individuals run together in large family groups. I don’t want to discount the number of quality racers who run with us though because we do have more than our fare share of ultra fast ‘rabbits’, so defined as anyone who can run sub 5:15 miles. So maybe that 1st place overall finish I thought about is out of reach.
We continue to strive to stage the best race possible and appreciate our sponsors who choose to lend support to our race, our volunteers who choose to assist us with staging our race, and our participants who run in our race.
Go on, admit it, pretty good for a bunch of firefighting runners huh?
We are heading into the 4th year of the Ayer Fire Department Thanksgiving Day 5K Road Race and I am pleased to announce that I am still faster than my two co-workers. We are expecting over 400 runners this year. I’m proud of our race. By all means our race isn’t perfect, I think the course is a little short, but hey it’s a 5K, and if someone runs our course a few seconds faster than a certified USATF wheel-measured course, who cares? Take the PR and go have a second piece of pie later that day.
Is being a Race Director fun? Not really, most of the time you are so focused on completing tasks and working off the ‘punch list’ that you never get to enjoy the process. Why do I do it? Simple. I owe it to you runners out there. As a Race Director, I feel that I ‘m doing my part for this wonderful sport. Over the years, I have competed in so many amazing races and it is all because someone stepped up and said, “I want to organize a race”. Call it giving back; paying it forward, you pick the phrase. Now don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a self ‘pat on the back’ article, but I just want you to think about that favorite race you circle on your calendar every year. Did you ever stop to think about the planning that goes into your favorite race. Did you know that the Race Director usually starts the planning process for the next year’s race a few months after the current race?
Do me a favor, the next time you attend a race and have a positive experience, seek out the Race Director and thank him or her. You don’t realize how much that means to someone that puts family commitments and their personal time on hold to plan such an event. Actually, don’t seek them out on race day, send the Race Director an email when you get home. The Race Director will probably have ten things going on at once and when you introduce yourself, the Race Director will forget at least five of the things he or she was juggling at the time of your introduction :)
Monday, October 6, 2008
Manly?????
Recently I had a conversation with a coworker at the Firehouse that really got me thinking about the definition of ‘Manly’. The conversation started with, “Dude you shave your legs”, and it ended with me attempting to explain to my buddy that there is a rule that all members of my triathlon team need to be ‘shaved down’ before all competitions. He asked if I had an upcoming race and I responded “No”. He asked why my legs were shaved and I just had to drop my head in defeat and walk away.
Thinking back, I really don’t remember this topic coming up when I was approached and asked to race for my current triathlon team. I specifically remember the Team Manager asking if I wanted to be a member of the team, receive a bunch of free gear, equipment, and swag, in exchange for promotional work and great race results. There was nothing about waxing my hairy back. I know I was overly excited about the prospect of receiving a top of the line race rig, but I think I would have remembered the chest hair shaving clause. I’m over 40 years old and Italian, which means I have more hair growing in places I don’t want, and less hair growing in the places I do want.
I remember the dreadful day fondly, it was the day I was to pick up my new bike and uniform. I drove to the team headquarters, nervously entered the building, and met my new teammates. They seemed like nice enough guys, mostly Type A competitive racers, tall, skinny, pretty serious looking. I sensed they were sizing me up as soon as I entered the building. After introductions and brief team meeting, we geared up and hit the road for a short training ride. The pace was mellow and the conversation flowed. One team member asked if “I let my winter coat grow?” I responded that I usually shave my head before big events but let my hair grow in between races. He then asked if I waxed. I responded that I used clippers to buzz my head and commented that it must hurt to wax your head. The entire group laughed. Did I miss something? He then responded “I meant do you wax your body?” Now it was my time to laugh, but nobody was laughing with me. For the remainder of the ride I was educated about the positive aspects of keeping your body free of body hair. The reasons provided included absolute gems like, it will make you swim faster, if you fall on the road your skin won’t tear from your body, you will feel faster, you will look faster, to you look cooler, and your wife will love the feeling. Huh? They didn’t know my wife. The only thing that kept going thru my mind was “How am I going to tell my wife about this”.
When I arrived home, my wife had ton of questions about the team. I don’t remember any of the questions she asked or if I even answered them. I do remember a long silent pause and then I informed her, “They want me to shave”. She responded with, “Good, I want you to shave too; it’s gross when you don’t shave on the weekends”. (Take note guys, it is ‘Manly’ to not shave on the weekends) There was another awkward silence and then I responded, “Not my face, they want me to shave my body”. In a classic Edith Bunker impersonation, my wife looked at me blankly, attempting to digest what I just said, and came out with a very long, slow, “Ooohhhh”. She asked if I wanted to do that. I looked over at my new $4000 full suspension race bike and responded with, “Get the shaving cream honey it is erotic shaving night!!!!!!” You guessed it; I got ‘The Look’.
After some quick internet research about how to shave for cycling events (note, there are some very inappropriate shaving websites out there, be careful. Yuck), I figured out I just had to shave my arms, armpits and legs. Only shave the exposed areas right? I love my wife, she is definitely the brains of the operation and when she told me to use a dull razor when shaving, I just laughed at her, everybody knows that a new razor shaves better than a dull one right?
I entered the shower the proud owner of a $4000 bike with a new razor (I can hear all the women screaming now, NOT A NEW RAZOR YOU FOOL!!!!!), and a can of shaving cream. I exited the shower 20 minutes later totally emasculated with smooth arms, pits, and legs. I was also down at least a pint and a half of blood. The shower floor looked like the scene from Psycho and my legs looked like someone took a weedwacker to them. Did I feel fast? No. I felt dizzy; I lost a lot of blood. Once all 16 band-aids were applied, I ran downstairs to show my wife my new race body. I expected to hear her say such things as “Wow, you look fast” and “Having those shaved arms and legs should save you at least three seconds on a twenty five mile bike ride”. I didn’t hear such comments, but was greeted with, “Won’t all those band-aids slow you down?” I was a beaten man.
I showed up for a swim practice a few days later showing off my freshly shaved arms, pits, and legs and received laughs again. I felt like the Little Leaguer on the first day of practice that put his glove on the wrong hand. What did I do wrong, most of my razor wounds were healing and were barely visible, did I miss a clump on leg hair on my hamstring? The guys were laughing because I had a hairy back and chest with shaved legs and arms. They said it is easier to shave or wax your entire body all at one time. I informed them that there are some parts of my body I can’t reach with a razor, and some places I do not want a razor to come close to.
Ok, I arrived home, entered the shower and somehow shaved my chest without loosing any more blood. When my wife got home, I informed her she had to shave my back. She responded she didn’t remember anything in our wedding vows about back shaving. She eventually agreed to shave my back for the sole reason that she could tell her friends and they could all laugh at me. Well, she did, and they did. But, I did tell them I have a $4000 bike? They didn’t care, most women don’t, it’s in their nature to laugh at males when we do something foolish. We never let them down; we certainly give them plenty of ammo.
OK, to make a long story short, I first shaved my arms, legs and pits on 4/18/2007. I first shaved my chest on 4/21/2007. My wife shaved my back on 4/21/2007. Since those horrible days, I have been forced to shave my arms, chest, legs, and pits approximately every three days. I have a wonderful neighbor (she works in a high priced fancy salon in Cambridge, Massachusetts) who waxes my back every month. Her husband, who is very understanding, laughs every time I attempt to explain that there is nothing inappropriate going on, it is purely business. Hahahaha
You may ask that why do I continue to shave and wax most of my body hair now that my race season is over. The answer is, if I could find a legal drug to take that would eliminate the itching, I would braid my chest hair. I’ve tried numerous times to grow back my body hair but the itching is totally unbearable after only 5 days. My mind won’t even allow me to think about what seven day stubble would feel like. I am cursed, and as Eddie Murphy once said, “You brought this $%#@ on yourself”. My wife won’t admit it, but I think she likes the shaved body feel. Ok, I’m an idiot. She just likes laughing at me. But I do get back at her. Not only can I leave the toilet seat up, I can now use all of her shaving cream. hahahaha
I like to think of myself as a ‘Manly’ man. I’m a pretty active guy. I work out almost every day, most days include two workouts. My workouts include off-road running, weight lifting, mountain biking, swimming, and plyometrics. I mean, I lift actual weights, and a lot of them, I don’t mess around with those Cybex machines with the belts, straps, and instructions. I have a cool job. I hang out with cool guys. I have tattoos. I have my own mug behind the bar of my local Irish Tavern. I like beer, Maxim Magazine, power tools, smoked meats, heavy metal, football, and girls in bikinis (only my wife, wink, wink). In my opinion, all of the above mentioned items fit into the definition of “Manly”. But I can’t seem to get those five words out of my head, you may be thinking to yourself, “Anthony don’t worry about your buddy questioning your manhood, you are Manly”. But those five words stay with me day after day, I just can’t get them out of my head. You may ask, are the five words, “Dude you shave your legs” Of course not, the five words are, I HAVE A $4000 BIKE.
Thinking back, I really don’t remember this topic coming up when I was approached and asked to race for my current triathlon team. I specifically remember the Team Manager asking if I wanted to be a member of the team, receive a bunch of free gear, equipment, and swag, in exchange for promotional work and great race results. There was nothing about waxing my hairy back. I know I was overly excited about the prospect of receiving a top of the line race rig, but I think I would have remembered the chest hair shaving clause. I’m over 40 years old and Italian, which means I have more hair growing in places I don’t want, and less hair growing in the places I do want.
I remember the dreadful day fondly, it was the day I was to pick up my new bike and uniform. I drove to the team headquarters, nervously entered the building, and met my new teammates. They seemed like nice enough guys, mostly Type A competitive racers, tall, skinny, pretty serious looking. I sensed they were sizing me up as soon as I entered the building. After introductions and brief team meeting, we geared up and hit the road for a short training ride. The pace was mellow and the conversation flowed. One team member asked if “I let my winter coat grow?” I responded that I usually shave my head before big events but let my hair grow in between races. He then asked if I waxed. I responded that I used clippers to buzz my head and commented that it must hurt to wax your head. The entire group laughed. Did I miss something? He then responded “I meant do you wax your body?” Now it was my time to laugh, but nobody was laughing with me. For the remainder of the ride I was educated about the positive aspects of keeping your body free of body hair. The reasons provided included absolute gems like, it will make you swim faster, if you fall on the road your skin won’t tear from your body, you will feel faster, you will look faster, to you look cooler, and your wife will love the feeling. Huh? They didn’t know my wife. The only thing that kept going thru my mind was “How am I going to tell my wife about this”.
When I arrived home, my wife had ton of questions about the team. I don’t remember any of the questions she asked or if I even answered them. I do remember a long silent pause and then I informed her, “They want me to shave”. She responded with, “Good, I want you to shave too; it’s gross when you don’t shave on the weekends”. (Take note guys, it is ‘Manly’ to not shave on the weekends) There was another awkward silence and then I responded, “Not my face, they want me to shave my body”. In a classic Edith Bunker impersonation, my wife looked at me blankly, attempting to digest what I just said, and came out with a very long, slow, “Ooohhhh”. She asked if I wanted to do that. I looked over at my new $4000 full suspension race bike and responded with, “Get the shaving cream honey it is erotic shaving night!!!!!!” You guessed it; I got ‘The Look’.
After some quick internet research about how to shave for cycling events (note, there are some very inappropriate shaving websites out there, be careful. Yuck), I figured out I just had to shave my arms, armpits and legs. Only shave the exposed areas right? I love my wife, she is definitely the brains of the operation and when she told me to use a dull razor when shaving, I just laughed at her, everybody knows that a new razor shaves better than a dull one right?
I entered the shower the proud owner of a $4000 bike with a new razor (I can hear all the women screaming now, NOT A NEW RAZOR YOU FOOL!!!!!), and a can of shaving cream. I exited the shower 20 minutes later totally emasculated with smooth arms, pits, and legs. I was also down at least a pint and a half of blood. The shower floor looked like the scene from Psycho and my legs looked like someone took a weedwacker to them. Did I feel fast? No. I felt dizzy; I lost a lot of blood. Once all 16 band-aids were applied, I ran downstairs to show my wife my new race body. I expected to hear her say such things as “Wow, you look fast” and “Having those shaved arms and legs should save you at least three seconds on a twenty five mile bike ride”. I didn’t hear such comments, but was greeted with, “Won’t all those band-aids slow you down?” I was a beaten man.
I showed up for a swim practice a few days later showing off my freshly shaved arms, pits, and legs and received laughs again. I felt like the Little Leaguer on the first day of practice that put his glove on the wrong hand. What did I do wrong, most of my razor wounds were healing and were barely visible, did I miss a clump on leg hair on my hamstring? The guys were laughing because I had a hairy back and chest with shaved legs and arms. They said it is easier to shave or wax your entire body all at one time. I informed them that there are some parts of my body I can’t reach with a razor, and some places I do not want a razor to come close to.
Ok, I arrived home, entered the shower and somehow shaved my chest without loosing any more blood. When my wife got home, I informed her she had to shave my back. She responded she didn’t remember anything in our wedding vows about back shaving. She eventually agreed to shave my back for the sole reason that she could tell her friends and they could all laugh at me. Well, she did, and they did. But, I did tell them I have a $4000 bike? They didn’t care, most women don’t, it’s in their nature to laugh at males when we do something foolish. We never let them down; we certainly give them plenty of ammo.
OK, to make a long story short, I first shaved my arms, legs and pits on 4/18/2007. I first shaved my chest on 4/21/2007. My wife shaved my back on 4/21/2007. Since those horrible days, I have been forced to shave my arms, chest, legs, and pits approximately every three days. I have a wonderful neighbor (she works in a high priced fancy salon in Cambridge, Massachusetts) who waxes my back every month. Her husband, who is very understanding, laughs every time I attempt to explain that there is nothing inappropriate going on, it is purely business. Hahahaha
You may ask that why do I continue to shave and wax most of my body hair now that my race season is over. The answer is, if I could find a legal drug to take that would eliminate the itching, I would braid my chest hair. I’ve tried numerous times to grow back my body hair but the itching is totally unbearable after only 5 days. My mind won’t even allow me to think about what seven day stubble would feel like. I am cursed, and as Eddie Murphy once said, “You brought this $%#@ on yourself”. My wife won’t admit it, but I think she likes the shaved body feel. Ok, I’m an idiot. She just likes laughing at me. But I do get back at her. Not only can I leave the toilet seat up, I can now use all of her shaving cream. hahahaha
I like to think of myself as a ‘Manly’ man. I’m a pretty active guy. I work out almost every day, most days include two workouts. My workouts include off-road running, weight lifting, mountain biking, swimming, and plyometrics. I mean, I lift actual weights, and a lot of them, I don’t mess around with those Cybex machines with the belts, straps, and instructions. I have a cool job. I hang out with cool guys. I have tattoos. I have my own mug behind the bar of my local Irish Tavern. I like beer, Maxim Magazine, power tools, smoked meats, heavy metal, football, and girls in bikinis (only my wife, wink, wink). In my opinion, all of the above mentioned items fit into the definition of “Manly”. But I can’t seem to get those five words out of my head, you may be thinking to yourself, “Anthony don’t worry about your buddy questioning your manhood, you are Manly”. But those five words stay with me day after day, I just can’t get them out of my head. You may ask, are the five words, “Dude you shave your legs” Of course not, the five words are, I HAVE A $4000 BIKE.
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