We train month after month, year after year in hope of one or two great performances.  Long dry spells  between victories and even longer spells of bad fitness and bad luck paint the dreary picture that is the life of a pro/aspiring pro cyclist.  Will it ever come?  Will the cycling gods ever look upon me and grant me the legs and the brains to have that breakthrough performance?  Will all the work be worth it when some day I get to stand atop the podium, or is it the journey that’s important?  Is the summit the victory or is the real triumph overcoming and embracing the pain and drudgery while climbing the mountain side?

For Thomas T. Tabernackle Peterson III, no metaphorical questions plague his mind today, for he has tasted the sweet, gamey meat of victory.  Today he stands tall on the mountain top.  After months of hard labor, barking at empty trees, chasing phantom squirrels in the wood pile, and occasionally even chasing real live squirrels across the yard into the blackberry bushes, Thomas T. has found GLORY!!  HEAR YE, HEAR YE, Thomas T got one!!!  Praise the Lord Thomas T nabbed a squirrel!  The drought is over.  After 16 long months, a squirrel victory has once again been brought to the Peterson household.  Oh joyous day!  By the gods of zircon, let there be much celebration and much merriment!

The face of a champion.

Thomas took a few victory laps around the house to celebrate his catch and give praise to the squirrel gods.

That’s a fine looking specimen, Thomas.  A fine looking specimen indeed.  It will go nicely, stuffed and mounted, over the mantelpiece.

OK, Thomas that’s enough parading around.  You’ve been doing celebratory hot laps for 35 minutes now.  It’s time to get your recovery food in and elevate those legs for tomorrow’s stage. Rolling around the parking lot looking for team directors to talk to isn’t going to get you on a pro team. You can let your results speak for themselves today.

Post-squirrel poop. Possibly the first ever caught on camera. Victory laps now up to 45 minutes and counting and I still haven’t caught him yet to throw away the disease-infested trophy.

“Stay, Thomas. Staaaaay…”

A Recoverite dog bone distracted him temporarily and I chucked the squirrel in the blackberry bushes for a gopher to eat.

Well done, Sir. Well done. Go put those feet up and update your Twitter.

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