Anatomy of a Photo: Top Dog
I have it on excellent authority that life is good when you’re at the top. I myself am, of course, nowhere near the top but I felt a glimmer of it today, briefly savoring the unique palate of having some semblance of form in January. Which feels a lot like a victory over Christmas. And kicking Christmas’ ass feels pretty rad.
Then suddenly – and quite rudely, I might say – my rear axle broke, at which point the performance characteristics of my bicycle were diminished not unsubstantially. Our experience atop the peaks are brief; the journey we call life takes place primarily in the valleys and upon the slopes.
If life has taught me anything, it’s that you should feel free to grab the pompoms on any Marine’s hat anytime you please, particularly if you happen to be wearing a totally sick Molteni Alimentari jumper.
If you also happen to be Eddy Merckx and you recently had your sideburns oiled by your man-servant, then said Marines might not even celebrate your gesture by killing you.