The Flying Elmer

I just noticed today that one of my co-workers has a dried up fish on her bookshelf. No, not stuffed. No, not a fake fish. A real, once was alive – but now is dead, dried up fish. Like a little fish raisin. Its like if you had a fish tank, the little fish jumped out, and you didn’t notice for two months. Then you moved the fish tank. And left the fish there. WTF? Who keeps a dried up fish on the shelf? Seriously.

First one co-worker with the on-desk compost pot, now this. Damn it. Shit like this is why I want to scream.

On the other hand, I do have a collection of dried up desserts on my shelf. But that is different. That is a funny, subtle protest.

But a fish? Jesus.

So I raced two criteriums last night at the fairgrounds. Well actually only one plus about 5 laps of another. I guess ‘raced’ is probably the wrong word for what I did in the first one too. It was more like riding around in circles really fast with a bunch of other guys. To say that I raced would imply that I actively took part, rather than just followed the people in front of me.
Nonetheless, it hurt. Hurt enough that my ‘warm-up’ ‘race’ turned into a struggle for survival, complete with snot, slobber, bleary eyes, and a decided desire to quit.

It wasn’t all bad though. It was the first time I have ever caught air in a race. There was that. I was following a teammate along the outside of the course as we passed the start finish line. He veered a little bit around a cone that had fallen along the side of the course. I didn’t veer.
The cone wasn’t your standard traffic cone. This one was yellow, about four feet high, with a base about a foot across. It wasn’t made of soft rubbery stuff, rather, hard plasticy stuff. If you lay it over on its side it would look a lot like a ramp. If you lay it over on its side beside a race course it would be a ramp.

So I hit the ramp. Not on purpose, it was just there.

In my head I launched off the ramp, did a sweet table topper, clicked back into my pedals and landed – riding away with the rest of the pack. In reality I don’t even think both my tires came off the ground at the same time. I didn’t do a trick, unless contorting your face in fear is a trick. I did ride away with the rest of the pack though. That part was good.

I was going to do a sweet trick on the next lap though. Really. But they moved the cone.

The tool? It’s the fish. Definitely the fish.