All right, all right.
So I had this work thing out of town that kept me from bloggin' the shit up. And I had the sweet ass company issue lap top... so I could have used it for more G rated events, but I there really wasn't anything to regale the abiding fans with. To sum up the whole damn conference: Midwest Sales Team kicked the crab-scratchin', Sam-Adams-drinkin', swan-boat-pedalin', bofug-lovin', Bill-Buckner-hatin' New England Sales Team's asses off. Just like the red-headed step-daughters that they are, I am sure they are being beaten with a strong switch by the hairy arm of Corporate right now. Some awesome doodling from yours truly from the lame ass lecture portions of the ordeal highlighted above.
Sure, I got some miles in, but they were completely useless. Coach M. went into a full-blown meltdown over the training log I brought back. He paced back and forth and swung his arms about and everything. So upon my return, it was all-cycling, all the damn time. I was instructed to repent for my ghastly sins and get the legs spinning out some serious miles at serious watts. The Dude obliges. Which leaves little time for this sort of self-indulgent nonsense.
The fitness is back to pre-conference legit-ness. I've got a night off and a leg-shredding ride tomorrow with the boys over hill and bloody vale. Tomorrow por la noche, I will tear some mother-fargin' shit up- in full kit- at Looptopia.
See your asses there!
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