the world at large

I had a pretty great holiday yesterday.  I went for a forty mile ride in the morning, and got home in time to watch the end of the first stage of the Tour.  I puttered around for the rest of the afternoon, blogged a little, and then Dabysan and Carrie Nation picked me up around four-thirty to head to Bernadette's for the quintessential Fourth of July celebration.  We hung out in a backyard in the suburbs.  The adults consumed adult beverages while a few children scampered around our legs.  Daby and I organized a game of touch football during one of the few moments when no one was jumping on the trampoline.  There was a big bowl of tortilla chips and various dipping options while meats and fake meats and vegetables were grilling on the grill.  There were desserts and good conversation.  And, of course, the naked pool party at the house next door.

Carrie Nation mentioned as we pulled into Rockville's Flower Valley subdivision that Bernadette's neighbors were nudists.  But I didn't realize that meant that they would be nude at that very moment.  Nor did I realize that they would have invited other nudists over for their holiday celebration.  I couldn't have been more wrong.  The party - complete with festive red, white, and blue bunting - was in full swing (so to speak) by the time we arrived.  Speculation about the goings-on next door didn't dominate the conversation, per se, but it was an underlying theme.  And I wish I could say I took the high road when Bernadette asked if we wanted to visit the windows of the house from which we could see over the fence, but I didn't.  There's nothing quite like suburban naked people to turn a bunch of thirty-somethings into children.  Except, of course, the children weren't allowed to peek.

But for me, the most fascinating aspect of the soiree was the band.  The band showed up after we had been there about an hour, and they immediately prompted so many questions.  Were they naked too?  Where, exactly, does one find a band willing to play the nudist circuit?  Were they naked too?  Daby and I were tossing a football around when they launched into their first song - which was obviously selected to get the crowd fired up.  After catching a particularly wobbly pass, I paused and asked: "Is that 'Norwegian Wood'?"  That's when I decided I had to keep track of the set list for posterity.  I don't have a moleskine notebook, so I just used my phone.
 
Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown) / Margaritaville / Stand By Me / Lay Down Sally / It's Five O'Clock Somewhere / ??? (Bring Back My Something Something?) / Nowhere Man / Save Tonight / Brown Eyed Girl / Shaky Ground / --intermission-- / Happy Birthday / Can't Buy Me Love / Cheeseburger In Paradise / Crazy / Me and Bobby McGee / Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard / The Game of Love / Mustang Sally / All Along the Watchtower / All For You / Rocky Raccoon / The Joker
 
The lesson, I guess, is that baby-boomer nudists like their Beatles.  Sadly, it was time for us to leave during the  Steve Miller Band cover, so I can only speculate how the rest of the evening went.  The reports from the upstairs window, though, were not encouraging.  As the evening grew cooler, more and more of the guests were putting their clothes back on, with only a few brave men holding (and hanging) out.  And besides, by then the "neighborhood watch" had gotten out their golf cart and had begun making their drunken circuit of the subdivision, asking the children if they had pooped yet.  As entertainment goes, it's tough even for a naked pool party to compete with that.

I intended to run yesterday.  Really, I did.  But I hosted a happy hour fundraiser on Thursday, and my cycling friends who showed up conspired against me.  Even the runner.  They had been discussing the Lake Barcroft loop - a popular mid-week training ride, and decided on the spur of the moment to plan a ride for the next day because one (the runner) was a "Barcroft virgin."  I'd never done that ride either as it's virtually impossible to get to Arlington by six o'clock on a weekday.  And since it's a ride I can do literally from my door, it didn't take much convincing.  We weren't meeting until noon, and I briefly entertained the notion that I could get my run in early before the ride.  Then I stayed out until after midnight.  So that plan got all shot to hell.

Well, Barcroft lived up to its billing, with several nice rolling hills balancing out a somewhat convoluted cue sheet.  And I wasn't feeling especially guilty about skipping my run until I showed up this morning for the forty mile pie ride.  I had been planning on doing this ride for the last week, since we didn't have an official training run today.  But at least five people asked me "Aren't you supposed to be running?"
 
So on this day noted for bold proclamations of freedom and liberty, I hereby declare independence from my bike until October.  That's not to say I won't be riding at all.  (I've already been cleared by my running coaches to ride on Sundays for the next six weeks or so.)  What I mean is: yesterday was the last time that, when confronted with the choice to run or ride, I will opt to ride.  I will be free from my bike.  Sort of.  As I write this, the Tour de France is on in the background.  I still get to ride vicariously.

We may have mentioned this before, but those that pay attention can track our general disposition through this humble blog.  We've noticed over the past three years a clear (to us) pattern of negligence when we are down.  Now just so happens to be one of those unfortunate times.  We've been fairly stressed out lately, and we've been dealing with the inevitable low after a long spring of being mostly up.  And despite our week-long dalliance with the Question of the Day, we feel hotrod.vox.com has not been getting the attention it deserves.  We had hoped to rectify that this evening with an off-topic and humorous personal anecdote, but nothing came to mind.  Or at least nothing that we could crank out in twenty minutes or less.

Then we remembered a couple of posts by Dabysan (before he jetted off to another hemisphere; god, we hate that asshole) about smooth music.  Those posts prompted us to re-watch the tremendous Yacht Rock series in its entirety one sleepless mid-June night.  This is our favorite episode.

Now that we think of it, "I'm The One" probably counts as a ba-ba song.

One thing I never thought was necessary on Saturday afternoons this past spring - no matter how long my training ride - was a nap.  This running thing is a whole different story.  I crawled out of the sack about a half-hour ago.  I didn't sleep at all, but it sure was nice just to lie down and close my eyes for an hour.  Man, I was cashed.

Today was my first run with the group and it went.... okay.  We did five miles - from Fletcher's Boathouse to the intersection of Wisconsin Avenue and K Street and back.  I didn't make it the whole five, but I know I ran at least four.  And I finished in under an hour.  I'm not going to go around bragging about my performance at this point, but I'll take it.  For the next month or so, my goal is simply not to become discouraged.  Besides, I'm supposed to take it easy for the time being anyway.  It's a long season.  There will be opportunities later to discuss my time.  You know, once I can run five consecutive miles without stopping.

Most artists would be happy to have sung just one of the greatest pop songs ever.  Michael Jackson sang two.  This is the better one.  Barely.

I had a somewhat humbling - if unsurprising - trip to the doctor today.  I've been freaking out about, well, literally everything lately and started to notice some tightness in my chest over the past couple of days.  Which naturally caused me to freak out a little more.  Hence the trip to the doctor.  Long story short - I'm fine, but my heart rate is on the fast side of normal.  It's a Fiat, when it should be a BMW.  (Yes, my doctor actually said that.)  I'm supposed to get more cardio exercise (which: check) and drink less coffee.  That second item is going to be even more painful than the cardio.  Good thing for me it's just a heart.  It ain't worth nothin'.

When was the last time you were disappointed?

Holy crap, Question of the Day.  This is three days in a ro-  Oh, wait!  I don't have to do this any more.  Suck it, Question of the Day!

Who do you tell your secrets to?

Jeez, Question of the Day, when did this turn into "Let's Riff On Hotrod's Insecurities Week?"  I'm in a much better mood than yesterday, so you'll get no more wallowing in self-pity out of me.  Instead, I'd just like to inform you that I don't tell my secrets to anyone.  That's what makes them secrets.

Would you rather have one best friend or ten acquaintances? Why?

Shit, Question of the Day - at this point, I'd take either.  I'm so lonely.

What is it too soon for?
Submitted by Design Shark.

I'll admit, Question of the Day, that this one threw me at first.  You see, most people complain about something they can't wait for, rather than something that has arrived prematurely.  In fact, about the only thing most people complain about coming too soon (other than, ahem, coming too soon) is the annual holiday creep.  And they're right.  Frankly, Christmas decorations could show up in stores on December 22 and that would still be too early.  But that's not very timely now, is it?  I do enough complaining about Christmas after Thanksgiving; I don't need to go there in June.

Ordinarily I might opine that it's too soon for the brutal DC summer, but the weather has been rather mild and tolerable lately.  So I guess it's too soon to start training for that marathon.  The month since I signed up has just flown by.  I didn't run much before the big ride in Tahoe, because I didn't want to risk jeopardizing that ride with an injury.  And I haven't run enough since the big ride because I tweaked something in my left foot during the ride and have been in some pain since.  It's felt better toward the end of this week, but it still seems too soon to run four miles on Sunday. 

And, of course, it's too soon for Christmas.  It's always too soon for Christmas.  I guess I don't have a problem going there this early after all.