Bent Forks and Broncos

I feel guilty stealing other blogs thunder, especially because there's zero chance they'd link to me (they're all nuggets all the time), but I'm stealing a link about the birdman for a reason that they completely missed. Basically the Birdman grew facial hair . Coming from somebody who lacks anything remotely close to this 'manly' ability of growing facial, its crazy. He looks completely different…and by different I guess I mean old *nostaligic twinge.* I mean, the Birdman's not young anymore, even though he has relatively few miles on his NBA odometer…so trying to see him look older just seems…odd. But hey, if it improves his game I'm all for it. Hey, at least it's not porn stache worth, like Colt McCoy's was. I got back from Pittsburgh this morning from my SEI CMMI training class. Super-informative. I feel like a process improvement junkie, it's almost addicting. It's also awesome: everything about it simply makes sense. I'm comp

So I'm going to try to make this quick… Today was awesome. I stuffed myself at a lunch buffet at Beaujo's, played some ultimate for under an hour, ran a mile, had a no longer local friend contact me, and played racquetball. In the process, I discovered that: eating as much as you possibly can means you will be really tired at work for the entire afternoon, I'm really good at running in a straight line for quick bursts especially when there's a deep Frisbee/ball thrown my way (as a heads up, it's now known as plan one), I'm not nearly as fast as I thought as a I was, I'm a dick for not including one of my friends in fantasy football, and my hunches about a friend's racquetball skills were dead on. But he owes me beer, so its cool. The most interesting thing that happened was my mile time. I wasn't keeping exact time, but I did it in just under six minutes….while I have tendencies to have unrealistic expectations for myself, 6 minutes is a solid minute

So I've got to do this quickly, before all of my motivation wanes into that nebulous area we all know as sleep. So, here it goes… I've discovered a fundamental truth about myself: I hate getting burned. I played a game of pick-up football today with a few of my old high school buddies and I got absolutely lit up. It sucked. What made it worse was that two days ago (Sunday), I played a similar game, and did amazing. Man, it was a downer. I mean I've got an excuse, but it just completely burned my desire to play pick-up football in the near reason. On Sunday, we were playing barefoot, and I could dance like a butterfly. I played in my indoor soccer shoes today, and at about the second cut, exactly at the point that I realized that the WR I was covering had decided to change directions for the third time, I decided to correct my wrong course of action. By slipping and eating it. Which, if the Q threw an accurate pass (about 1/3 of the time), resulted in an touchdown. Note that