It would appear that I have some catching up to do. It would appear that Amanda is a much better blogger than I. It would appear that I have yet to tell about the calf contest I entered last week.
So, I thought I'd boost my moral after a true lack of performance in Baja. I noticed that there was a calf contest at the local Fleet Feet. I figured this would be just the thing I needed to jump back into the competitive arena... with a go at the podium.
I arrived with Amanda, who was to be a guest judge (I figured that meant I'd have a bit of an advantage over the other boys.) I checked out a few of my competitors, and noticed that there were some pretty beefy guys out there. I hoped that my tan would carry me past them, and perhaps my smooth shave would add extra points in my favor. I was confident I could do moderately well, so I jumped right up to be contestant number one!
The last-minute rule recap indicated that style and size were the two main criteria for the judging. With no mention of complexion or hairlessness, I soon realized I'd need some help. I grabbed Amanda's flip-flops, which sport a three-inch heel. I figured they'd bump me up in style, knowing I'd be middle of the road for size.
As contestant numero uno, I strutted my stuff, precariously perched on the tall sandals. I flexed, I ambled, I posed, I sauntered. I moved with grace--as much grace as the flops would allow--and I stood for my measurement. I notched a tad over 14 inches, a number that soon proved to be VERY common amongst my peers. Next step was to sit back and watch the show.
I truly enjoyed hooting and hollering at the others, and even coaxing some shy types to join in the fray. I was impressed by the largest lower legs, which stretched the tape at 16 1/4 inches!
After twenty calf-champ hopefuls passed by the scrutinizing eyes of my wife the Judge, and her two counterparts, we were all invited for a final flex-off.
Anticipation was dripping from the shoe displays.
(And I was getting a bit of a buzz from the beer I drank.)
(And I was wondering if the bodies attached to the sixteeners would get a buzz from just one beer.)
And then the Judges announced their final three! I didn't hear my name, and I was listening for it. No such luck.
It seemed I had been smoked yet again. Ah well, the winners of the contest were well deserving of the honors. Silvio Guerra's twelve+ calves were incredibly tan (or BROWN), very lean, and strutted with true style: first place. Contestant fourteen had the act down, and he combined it with a really bad outfit, and some bicycle chain grease, and a short strip tease: second place. And third place was an older, wiser, 16-inch-calf-having stud, who certainly displayed the most impressive ballet moves.
I was done for, but I was again reminded that it's not always about winning, but rather getting out there and strutting your stuff.