Nachos Provide Sustenance for Sex

This past Sunday, I ventured out on my fourth and longest ride of the season—a whopping 65-miles (1 loop of the Ironman course) with my longtime friend Paul, and several of his friends, who were all visiting Madison from Davenport, Iowa.

The ride went very well for the most part, and I managed to hold my pace at 16mph. The only mishaps were running into a weirdo who decided to “hang” with our group for most of the ride (as such, we nicknamed him “Nat,” as in, fly away, gnat). Also frustrating was the fact that I completely bonked during the last 5-10 miles of the ride (on Seminole). Other than that, great ride, pace, and company. I feel much better now having completed a ride longer than 40 miles, given I am riding in a 200k race in two weeks. Won't be pretty.

Afterwards, we refueled with nachos and beer at the Great Dane, which is only fitting after such a long day on the saddle. Paul and I are similarly on a never ending quest for the world’s best nachos, so we decided to conduct a research project, pitting the chicken nachos against the shredded beef nachos. In my estimation, the chicken won hands down, but I’m still compiling data and analysing results.

For the rest of the day, I was utterly useless and tired, but still managed to muster enough energy to get myself to Sundance Cinemas for the much-anticipated release of Sex in the City. I must say I was notably irritated by the masses of annoyingly materialistic (and dare I say, mentally challenged) women (and a few men) who were there for the same movie as I. Is this the type of person drawn to Sex in the City? Am I that annoying? Or was I annoyed because I was alone? So many questions to ponder. Anyways, the movie was very enjoyable, although depressing at times, but ultimately gave me much needed closure on a significant chapter of my life. And for that, Michael Patrick King et al., I thank you.