So you know its that time again, when I'm "working" on writing my thesis, that I post a blog. Apparently its been over a year. I guess all that real work of collecting samples and analyzing data took me away from throwing some good time away on here.
Either way, its time to write my conclusions and defense, so of course I'm going to have to waste some time in the old blog world again.
I'll start off with a nice little choose your own adventure story. I hope you can remember those. I don't know if the stories were ever that good, but I liked the challenge of reading every possible combination of decisions so much that one of those books could keep me entertained through a solid week of SSRs (Silent Sustained Reading...duh) back in grade school.
One day you find yourself just riding along on your single speed off road mountain bicycle. As you roll up to the mouth of the canyon in Orem you realize you can either ride up Provo canyon, or down to Provo and ride up Rock Canyon.
Where do you want to ride?
-Up Rock Canyon. Go to page A
-Up Provo Canyon. Go to page B
Are you serious? You are on a single speed! You spin out all the way down University Ave, looking like you belong on the short bus, pedaling 130 rpm the whole way, trying to match pace with every over-weight roadie, despite the insurmountable advantage they all have over you: a large chainring. When you finally do reach Rock Canyon you realize its kinda hard trying to mash a 34x18 up 2 miles and 3,000 ft of elevation.
Just as you summit the climb your knee caps blow off your femoral condyles with such force that they lacerate your jugular veins resulting in a bonk roughly 3 fold worse than the time Chucky rode around White Rim on 2 packs of Gu and a jolly rancher. You eventually pass out and fall to your demise somewhere just off the Squaw Peak dirt road where some zoobies find you, but can't get cell service to call their home teacher who has an off road truck in time to save you.
You stroll up Provo canyon, enjoying the delightful scenery. When you get to Timpanogos Park, you see a gate closing off the dirt road to cars. As you roll around the gate at a very modest speed of 5 mph, your front wheel suddenly catches on a mysterious object and you find yourself being flung over your handlebars in manner that resembles nothing even remotely graceful. You land on your right forearm, which you are 95% certain is fractured.
How do you react?
-Politely apologize to the offending root that threw you off your bicycle, chuckle lightly to yourself, brush the dirt off your shorts, comment under your breath how silly those darn roots can be, and continue on your ride.
Go to page C
- Cry about your arm, write a blog about how you were JRA and crashed, update your facebook status that includes vital information such as the gear ratio you were using and the distance you were going to ride, then call your wife to come pick you up.
Go to page D
-Throw your bike down in outrage (yes, you did have to pick it up again in order to throw it back down). Yell at the heavens in complete bewilderment at how you could have crashed at such a slow speed. Discover your attacker was a well hidden root, which you then spend the next 10 minutes unearthing with your bare hands while weaving a tapestry of profanity so thick, not even the shadow of which can even be begun to be described on any website hoping to ever claim a rating less vulgar than a Dane Cook comedy bit. When you've finally dug up the wretched monster of a creation, you fling it at the gate a seemingly infinite number of times, calling it names you wouldn't use to describe your (ex)best friend in high school that snuck off with your girlfriend at the senior ball. In a final fit of rage you throw the worthless chunk of wood on top of the nearby building, curse its existence, and feel more alive than you ever have before.
Go to page HB
You finish your ride, go home, finish a chapter in Little House in the Big Woods, head over to the local shelter to support your non profit charity "Baking Waffles for Widows", then hand knit some hats for kids with early onset male pattern baldness. The next day you get caught up in the rapture but you forget to bring your bicycles along.
Once you get home, you realize just how many people do the same thing you do, so you invent Strava, make millions and retire so you actually lose your excuse for being "not really very fit this season because I have to work so much", go into depression and ease your pain by reading blogs about Lance, flying private jets, drinking spiked carbo rocket before noon, and riding a fixed gear until you fixie skid into the side of the Salt Lake Tracks train during the evening rush hour.
You just pulled a Honey Badger on life. Win. As you finish your ride, you pay no attention to you arm, but make some resolutions to be even more aggressive in all your life pursuits. You pull a honey badger on school, work, marriage and soon, nobody even remembers Chuck Norris jokes. The only one they do remember, is the one about how Chuck Norris has to check his closet for YOU before going to bed at night. Life is good.