This post comes to you with all the enthusiasm of a blind man entering a strip club. Of course, based on some of the strip clubs I’ve unfortunately been in during the early “bachelor party days” of my life (looking at you, Hi-Way Playground in Washington County, PA, circa 1996 with your free stage-side pizza), that’s probably a good thing. I digress.
It’s been a minute or two years since my last Macro Monday post, and I’m not going to start today. Mostly because it’s Wednesday, not Monday, and I took the photos on Sunday, which means Monday has fuck all to do with anything.
For the first time in my life, I found myself in Manistee, Michigan, for a reason other than riding my bike, even though the Lumberjack 100 was coincidentally going on just up the road at Big M at the same time. With that in my head, I struggled to hold back my desire to regale Wifey with tales of my ONE Lumberjack 100 finish in 2009 (and multiple DNFs in later years) but instead focused on our little pre-planned-spur-of-the-moment day-trip to the beach.
In all my 17+ years of writing this shit-show, I finally find myself with a bit of writer’s block. Whilst the masses rejoice in knowing they are safe from my long-winded posts of sophomoric humor, tales of self-loathing, sub-par chubby middle-aged white guy pseudo adventures, and nonsensical word salad, I bemoan my stifled mind.
Like Al Camus (not that one, the Al Camus that works at Marty’s Bar washing dishes) once said, “sometimes you have to look over your shoulder before you can fail.” And that, my friends, is why I am here today.
