Monday: Steel mill ptp w/random tack, 22 minutes w/ Drew. Lincoln Park towing almost hit us at Bryn Mawr and Paulina. Felt like crap but Drew happily pointed out all the construction equipment.

Tuesday: 14 minutes up Peachtree in Atlanta, 13:20 back - ptp. Felt very heavy from big, late lunch.

In Minneapolis w/ RJF tomorrow, won't have time for run but should on Friday and/or Saturday. Bike The Drive is on Sunday and will do with Max and the folks. Bec and Drew will stay here.

Monday - 510a - Cemetary loop w/ Barry, 27:04

Tuesday - 7:15p - Cemetary loop solo, 26:04. Social D followed by Bottle Rockets is a powerful closing half.

Now normally I would never lampoon one of my coworkers for something he did while on the road. You don't talk about guys cheating on their wives, and you don't talk about bar fights that they started. When you travel with someone 2 or 3 times a month, it's in everyone's best interest.

Unless it's really really funny, and they didn't actually do anything wrong.

So the same guy (J) who heard the sheep story and I are sitting in another bar with a different set of clients in another town a few weeks ago. J's about 3 or 4 years younger than me, and we hang out a lot. It's sort of late for a Monday night and by 9, there's only one client left. He's what we refer to around here as a "professional drinker" in that we don't even try to keep up with him. So The Client calls his girlfriend to come pick him up because he's too drunk to drive ("professional" does not mean stupid). That's why I'll refer to him as Professional Drinking Boyfriend...

About 3 years ago, I was at a bar with some clients and a coworker. We were about 20 miles due west of The Middle of Nowhere, so it was pretty rural. Eventually, the clients left, and my coworker and I hung out since the music was good but not obnoxious and Golden Tee was calling our names.

We had a pitcher of beer that we were about halfway done with. I only mention that because in hindsight I think that thirst was the reason that the local approached us.

This sort of scarey looking middle-aged dude sauntered over and struck up a conversation. Apparently he was a local farmer and picked us out as two out-of-towners (duh, we were the only ones wearing khakis). He seemed nicer than he looked, so we sat down with him and chatted. And even bought a new pitcher.

So we get done talking sports and cars, and there's a lull in the conversation. That's when the dude points across the bar at a guy sitting alone and says "See that guy over...