The Ironman 70.3 is happening this weekend here in Coeur D' Alene and I have a couple of questions. First of all, what's with the 70.3? This event is supposed to be a "half" Ironman event, so where does the 70.3 come from? More important than that is why for the love of pastry would anyone want to put themselves through a vomit inducing regime for the pitiful reward of being able to declare that you finished without calling an ambulance?
I watch as these idiots punish themselves from the comfort of my front deck as they haul their anorexic bodies through the 1.6 mile swim that will begin this masochistic madness on Sunday morning. I note with no small degree of smugness that none of these clowns are smiling while practicing. The bike ride is 56 miles followed by a run considerably longer than the trip to the fridge I'll be making for a cold one. It makes me want to urp just thinking about it.
The big question, of course, is: WHY? Why punish yourself doing stuff that's no fun when you can challenge yourself with things like a pie eating contest or a massive beer chug? I would suggest that instead of this Ironman B.S. that my hometown should think LARGE and FUN with something we might call The Doughboy 2.0 or The Fat Boy 500. (The numbers have no significance as I have no mathematical skills. You'll have to admit they are very cool sounding names.) Sponsorship should not be a problem. Dunkin' Donuts, Mickey's Malt Liquor, Aunt Jemima, Stay Puft Marshmallows, and Burger King come to mind as I'm spit balling this baby. Local pie shops too would be lining up to be part of the fatso fest. Trust me. I may be a moron but I'm a genius when it comes to bonehead ideas that serve no purpose.
This event will be HUGE! A town full of people eating like they were going to "the chair" is certain to be a TON more fun than a bunch of serious and humorless millennials running around like democrats on Nancy Pelosi appreciation day. It's time to get aboard the all new Tubby Trolley for the Fat Boy 500! (I'm hoping to get several 500 lb. participants.)
WARNING: Any contestants found guilty of attempting to bulk up by sitting on the air hose down at the Chevron station will be immediately disqualified and made to sit through an entire performance of the musical CATS.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe it's time for pie.
I watch as these idiots punish themselves from the comfort of my front deck as they haul their anorexic bodies through the 1.6 mile swim that will begin this masochistic madness on Sunday morning. I note with no small degree of smugness that none of these clowns are smiling while practicing. The bike ride is 56 miles followed by a run considerably longer than the trip to the fridge I'll be making for a cold one. It makes me want to urp just thinking about it.
The big question, of course, is: WHY? Why punish yourself doing stuff that's no fun when you can challenge yourself with things like a pie eating contest or a massive beer chug? I would suggest that instead of this Ironman B.S. that my hometown should think LARGE and FUN with something we might call The Doughboy 2.0 or The Fat Boy 500. (The numbers have no significance as I have no mathematical skills. You'll have to admit they are very cool sounding names.) Sponsorship should not be a problem. Dunkin' Donuts, Mickey's Malt Liquor, Aunt Jemima, Stay Puft Marshmallows, and Burger King come to mind as I'm spit balling this baby. Local pie shops too would be lining up to be part of the fatso fest. Trust me. I may be a moron but I'm a genius when it comes to bonehead ideas that serve no purpose.
This event will be HUGE! A town full of people eating like they were going to "the chair" is certain to be a TON more fun than a bunch of serious and humorless millennials running around like democrats on Nancy Pelosi appreciation day. It's time to get aboard the all new Tubby Trolley for the Fat Boy 500! (I'm hoping to get several 500 lb. participants.)
WARNING: Any contestants found guilty of attempting to bulk up by sitting on the air hose down at the Chevron station will be immediately disqualified and made to sit through an entire performance of the musical CATS.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe it's time for pie.
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| "Take that Donald!" |
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