It Hurts Instead.

Lest occasional visitors think it's all doom and gloom over here, I'll again throw in another anecdote that reassures both the reader and me. A lot of the notes on this blog are about how much I suck, because, well, it's funnier that way. But sometimes I don't suck. Like the other day, when I took a bunch of kids up to the Latrobe Uni Gym for a sports class. The kids were on the bikes, and were mucking around a bit, seeing what cadences they could hit. That's the kind of mucking around I can really get behind, so I let them at it. "130!" one of them yelled. "142!" came the call from across the room. Now, I knew I couldn't let this stand. So, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, I sat down on one of the exercise bikes. Two minutes warm-up and I hit it. With no speed training whatsoever in the last three months, no track racing, nothing at all to ensure the legs could still move quick, the numbers still came up in my favour. "Check it, children!" I yelled, "216!"

There was a pause.

Then one of them looked at me disdainfully and said, "Yeah, but you looked stupid."