This weekend produced a few choice observations, which I hereby share with you:
1) If the forecast is questionable, and you thumb your nose at the clouds and go rock climbing anyway, it will not start to rain until you are halfway up the route, making a bail-out complicated and gear-abandonment-intensive. The rain will then cease until the precise moment that you begin a second attempt at the rock, when the skies will open up and the clouds will laugh as you slide off the slippery chalk-laden crack. If you abandon all further climbing efforts and retreat to the local watering hole, the sun promptly will reemerge, leaving you to ponder whether the Great Weathermaker might actively be encouraging your consumption of fermented malt beverages.
2) Should you choose to flout 60-mile-an-hour winds and go for a bike ride, be prepared to watch ribbons of your own snot fly in a sweeping arc from your nose before landing smack in the middle of your sunglasses.
3) Just because your boyfriend spends a fraction of the time you do engaged in cardiovascular training activities does not mean that he will not leave you in the dust during the second mile of the Bolder Boulder 10K race. Expect to entertain a moment or two of bitter admiration when he finishes in 7-minute pace, despite his consumption over the past three days of at least four times as much beer as you've imbibed.
4) Proper post-race hydration does not consist of Diet Sierra Mist, Michelob Ultra, or homebrew. Ingestion of such beverages is likely to lead to a world-class headache only partially curable by later consumption of large quantities of water and ibuprofen.
5) You play canasta with a Wisconsinite at your own risk. Consider yourself forewarned.
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