Bull!

I rode a mechanical bull yesterday. That isn't that big a thing; lots of people ride mechanical bulls, so don't think I'm boasting. Nor have I really hungered to ride mechanical bulls, so this wasn't finally paying off some suppressed lifelong desire. But I'm still glad I did it. For a while I weighed the pros and cons of the thing. On the con side, we have the fact that my sternum is held together with pieces of wire, and a hard fall could crack me open like an egg. On the pro side, it was there, I was there, and why not? As I told myself, "Pain is temporary. Regret is eternal." And when am I ever likely to ever find myself in such a position again?

They're much more violent than they look, by the way. Bystanders may look at the thing and think "It goes up and down, it goes around and around, big deal..." But when you're actually on the thing, you're struck by how violent it is, and how hard it is. And it gives me a whole new appreciation for what bull riders go through. I now know how hard it is to keep from being jerked down, and how an interruption in the bull's rhythm can be fatal (you come to rely on the bull's head coming back up to keep you from going over the front, and if there's a stutter-step or anything, well, try not to think about Tuff Hedeman and Bodacious while you're on the way down).

Ever wonder why Adriano Moraes had an arm as thick as a sequioa? Well, now I know.