Fortune Favors The Brave

Today in the subsection D break room, Brad from the Shipping Department told me Teenwolf (Inside Sales pariah) had been trying to “start some static”. Basically, Brad is an acolyte of the Octagon. Homeboy loves Mixed Martial Arts fighting and the training that accompanies it. He tested the lowest body fat percentage last Spring and could be described as being in cyborgishly optimum shape. Apparently, Teenwolf said that although Brad is in great shape, “ride” shape and “overall” shape are very different and that there isn’t a snowball’s chance Brad could complete the century Teenwolf and his cross country ride stooges were planning for Saturday morning. Brad disagreed vociferously and said that his fitness level would be more than adequate for 100 miles on the bike. This was where I found Brad’s mindset in the break room, ruminating about the possibility of doing a century ride with little to no bike riding in his legs. I went over the pros and cons with him. Pros: he was in good shape and had Teenwolf’s doubt as motivation. Cons? Cramping, saddle sores, fatigue and mental exhaustion. But then I asked him, “When was the last time you really challenged yourself? When was the last time you could look Ole Bloggy in the eye and not feel shame? This could be huge man! Huge I tell you!” as Geoff hovering in the background told him it was a bad idea and that I was mentally deranged. While it is true, that I am mentally deranged, I think this ride will do Brad some good. So what if he’s never ridden in clipless pedals? After the first few falls, his nerves will be steeled against any of the 9 or 10 thousand other dangers that await him on the circuitous lake route. He shall be astride his trusted Soma, which is steel, which won’t crack after one of Tony’s erratic lane shifts sends Brad into a ditch. Basically, Brad must do this ride to beat Teenwolf. It’s not a race, but just finishing it will be some sort of victory he/I can use to taunt Teenwolf for weeks to come until our voices are horse and our barbs ineffective and meaningless. Good luck Brad! Do not fail us.
Brad’s trusty steed, Perses… 




