I came into work this morning to the deathly silence of an office on vacation. The spirit-killing noise of tired eyes slurping coffee, frantic fingers keying boards, overhead ducts blowing air far too warm, and the occasional dry-heave of a dilapidated immune system. There’s a lot to be happy about and reflect on during the holiday season, but I typically find this time of year bleak and rather discouraging. Maybe it’s because the older you get, the more worn out you become, or the more accustomed you get to the concocted rhetoric of festivity and familial seasonality. But each time I feel anomalous, I’m reminded that most others feel exactly the same way as I do, and that we all fall off our rocker from time to time, and perhaps that is good.
We’ll use that as an excuse for the misguided musings of some washed-up foliage who seemed to have succumbed to the recent spread of “pussification“. Understandably, the end of the year brings out an unproductive side to us all. The season’s change from cold to frigid, the beer’s change from heavy, to well, heavier. The mind-fuck of winter on top of life in general deserves some lenience. But enough of that, it’s time to move on. Into the “new year” and all it’s opportunity… Let’s talk Cross Nationals, fake boobs, cash money and booze.
January 9th through the 13th, like last year, Madison welcomes cross-tards from all over country to drive their road bikes as fast as they can in snow, mud, beer foam, and probably feces. The DC colors will be flying high next weekend and we should all get a tad stoked in advance to prepare our darnedest to salvage whatever there is left of cyclocross. The sport conceived by die-hards with modest goals, has become the over-masculinated, hyper-competitive, and entirely delusional freakfest in need of a heavy relapse. With support from our local boozery, owners of which happen to be long-time, breast loving DC fanatics, their shop is no more than 300 feet from the course, and they are happy to help for the cause. So visit them, and tell them DC brung you…HINT HINT
The flag will be at full mast ladies and gents, and with more Beam than gymnastics, a super soaker pumped full on loaded with Labatt Blue, and soupy cakes to go around with more Jack than flour. You best bring the goods (your “A Game”). Dollar bills in the thong strap and vocal chords blown, it’s going to be wild fun so be sure to get your silly ass out to the only run-up on course and meet us. Kona knows what I’m talking about..
One other thing. 2012 was tough year for a lot of us, and we hope to fare a little better in 2013. Why not start it right by showing the sport of cyclocross what they seem to have forgotten…and also some big boobs.