The Six Hundred.
Half a league half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson, The Charge Of The Light Brigade
What you are now reading is the six hundredth blog post I've written. Each and every one has been a certified literary gem, encompassing the entire spectrum of human experience in bite-sized form for consumption by Micronesian fishermen and French porn bots. A worthy endeavor, indeed.
Mainly what it's been is a test of endurance. Most blogs don't make it to 60 entries before the writer realizes that the medium is dead and moves onto more important things, like sorting socks or scooping the thawing dog poop in their back yard. You have to be an ego-centric fucktard to make it past 100 entries, especially when your average entry doesn't chronicle interesting events or innovations but instead is just nominally about a sport that nobody participates in contested in a backwater that nobody cares about.
I am that fucktard. Six times over.
When Wanky told me to post more often, I figured it wouldn't last more than a week. I made a point to try to crank out five posts a week. It didn't matter if they were crap (which is good, because they all are) as long as I put some characters on the screen. Sometimes I missed a day or two for various reasons, but for the most part I stuck with it.
I have no idea why.
I also have no idea how long I'll continue. Like most failures in my life, it will be less of a conscious decision to stop than a protracted unraveling which result in deep feelings of resentment and regret. That's just how I roll.
Maybe in a year and a half you'll open this page and find a post about my 1000th post. I really hope not, because that will just mean that I've completely disappeared up my own asshole. Most people who know me think it's already happened, but they're just jealous of how awesome I am as a bike rider, writer, and all-around person.
Here's to number 601.