Have you heard of Anvil?
It is the story of a thrash metal band in obscura waiting for their moment to happen- and it does. 30 years of steady rocking until they became a curio on the mantle of rock, and thereby worthy of becoming the subject of a human interest documentary. Now they are rocking faces off all over the world, including Rocklahoma.
I relate to you this story not because I am a fan of thrash metal like my brother, but because I understand the concept of waiting 30 years for the smile of justice to turn your way. Luck is for those who earn it, and Anvil never stopped rocking.
That’s what I was thinking of out at Munson yesterday, time trialing at 3:00 P:M in the afternoon, in a suffocating humid haze so cloying I kept reaching to unzip my jersey only to realize it was open and flapping like a soggy beach towel.
I carried a soaking wet Camelbak full of gear that weighed 26.5 pounds. I cranked the Tupac up. I don’t need a cool, breezy day or a challenge from anyone. I rock like Anvil, for rock’s sake alone.
Forty-one minutes and forty-two seconds, give or take a minute that I spent moving a Gopher tortoise out of the trail (we have to stick together!) I celebrated with 45 minutes at the gym, emptying the tank.
So whatever, that is pretty slow.
Like the boys of Anvil, when my moment comes I will be ready to rock.