Peak

If there’s a luckier, more fortunate, more blessed human being than me out there, I’d like to see them.  Because it’s hard to believe that there could be anyone anywhere who gets to enjoy even a modicum of what I get, much less an excess.

You tell me who else is allowed to spend the day with about four dozen friends, family members, and new acquaintances on a perfect spring day for an overthought out and intentionally stupid bicycle “race” featuring traditional ascents and descents in our fair city while also taking the occasion to imbibe, hold forth, and kick back all afternoon and well into the early evening, and not only that, but also to receive about that same number of hand-written messages on beer-carton cardboard cut-outs with advice and admonitions inspired by the celebration of one’s birth, okay?

Who else, I ask you?

If reincarnation is really a thing, I must have been an awfully good person last time around to have earned an opportunity like this; I hope I’m not squandering my karmic riches by having so much fun this time around, but if so, it’s certainly worth it!

(And we did raise over $300 for Planned Parenthood and the Northwest Abortion Access Fund, so perhaps the debits to my account are slightly reduced.)

In any event, whatever the source of such good fortune, I gratefully acknowledge it in giving me the opportunity to:

• Congregate at my favorite bike shop drinking beer and whiskey while one after another familiar face appears
  
  
• Hang out in my backyard while those same familiar faces show up on bicycle to reapportion the excess canned water and write pithy messages to yours truly
  
  
• Reassemble in the courtyard of a local favorite watering hole to acknowledge the efforts of said faces (and legs) for several more hours of fun, jollity, and awe at a real-live bicycle racer who shows you how it’s done without hardly breaking a sweat.

Lucky me!