It’s 6:30am, December 22. The dogs woke me up at five o’clock, and we’re now sitting in silence on the couch. I’m thinking about Christmas – particularly, what it must have been like for the shepherds to whom the angels announced Jesus’ birth. As often as I’ve read the account and seen it depicted, I’ve never thought very deeply about it. What must it have been like for those guys? I’m trying to imagine the sudden appearance of an entire sky full of angels praising God and addressing me and a handful of my buddies. Wouldn’t it have been more than my senses could have handled? There could have been billions of them. It could have been incredibly loud. They might have seemed terrifyingly close. And I’m sure their appearance would have been quite different than the popular depictions of angels in robes with white, bird-like wings. My guess is that I would have been paralyzed with fear and awe.

Then what? The angels told the shepherds that the Savior had been born nearby, and that they should go and see him. What kind of thoughts and expectations would they have had as they walked? They might have assumed that he was born to people of a much higher social class, who wouldn’t appreciate the appearance of some smelly peasants moments after the birth of their royal child. When they arrived at the manger, might they have been both relieved and disappointed? What did they say to each other or to Mary and Joseph? How long did they stay before going back to work?

The shepherds never get mentioned again in the bible. I wonder, though, how the rest of their lives went. In the days following Jesus’ birth, they might have been thinking that in 20 or 30 years, he’d be old enough to stir up a revolt against the Roman occupation. Whatever their expectations, I assume they would have stayed in touch with the family. I could see them stopping by occasionally with some wool or meat from the flock.

We’re not told very much about Jesus’ childhood, but we do know that his family moved to Nazareth while he was still young. It might have been tough for the shepherds to stay in touch after that. If so, and if they were still alive 30 years later when word of Jesus’ activities began to spread, would they have made the connection between this guy doing amazing miracles and the child they’d known? It seems likely. I imagine they would have sought him out. What would that reunion have been like? I suppose they could have become some of his early followers.

That’s about all my imagination can conjure right now. Plus, one of the dogs is now asleep on my lap, which makes it difficult to type and impossible to reach my coffee. Thinking about the shepherds in such personal terms makes Jesus’ birth seem closer and less idealized than the portrayals we usually get. It’s been a good morning.

Merry Christmas to whomever reads this.

Today, it was Santa Claus’ turn to bring gifts. Or rather, SRAMta Claus.

Smoove B stopped by today, wearing a velvet Santa hat and distributing presents to all the good little Marketing Supervisors. I got these super-fast ceramic derailleur pulleys for my TT bike. Thanks, Smoove!

Hang up your winter coats, folks. Winter is gonna be moving out pronto. Why? Because my snow tires arrived today. It’s a sure bet that not a single additional snowflake will fall in southeast Wisconsin for the remainder of the season.

As you can see, I left the hubcaps off. The all-black wheel is kinda cool. It says, “outta my way, jerkface, I’ve got snow tires.” Or, “I parked overnight on the eastside.”

They say the first step in changing something is to start measuring it. Well, since I began daily weigh-ins two days ago, I’ve gone from 161 lbs to 156.5. Yeah, baybee. At this rate, I will be at my target weight of 145 lbs in just five days. Unfortunately, I may disappear entirely another 65 days after that.

Anyway, here’s a picture of me from Sunday’s ‘cross race. As you can see, this was taken before the race began. Notice the smile and the still-bendy knees.

Dangit. Wouldn’t you know that one day after declaring my intention to stay under 160#, the scale reads 161. Not cool. So here it is. As of today, no more sweets. If it comes to it (and I pray it doesn’t), I’ll even cut back my beer intake. Last year, I swelled to 166 in January before amending my diet and getting back down to a low of 152 in July. This year, my aim is to be no more than 158 on January 1, 155 by February 1, and 152 by March 1. After that, my training volume increases enough to keep the weight off through the end of the season.

Fortunately, my knee is already feeling much better, so I hope to be able to do an easy spin tonight. It’s so much easier and more fun to burn calories than it is to not eat them.

I wrapped up the 2007 racing season yesterday at the Wisconsin state cyclocross championships in Hales Corners. The course was covered in slush and mud, making for quite a spectacle. Truth be told, I was hoping the conditions would scare off enough people to give me a legitimate chance of winning. I came in third in the previous race, so maybe…

Wrong. I fell off at least four times in the first lap and a half. The last one came right next to the parking lot, which was lucky, because I smashed my knee against my handlebar. It was equally painful and infuriating. I picked myself up as best I could, dragged my bike back to the car, got changed, and drove off. Working the clutch was a real treat. In fact, I began to worry that I might have broken my kneecap. 20 hours and nearly as many ibuprofens later, the swelling has gone down, and I’m able to hobble around okay. I’ll probably be off the bike for another couple days, though.

Despite its ignominious end, 2007 has been a tremendous season. Today is the first of the 40 longest days of the year, and the official beginning of the off-season. I’m determined to keep my weight below 160 and to build a nice big base like I did last winter. If anyone reading this would care to join Paul, Phil, and me for a basement trainer ride, consider yourself invited. We’re currently serving cherry-vanilla stout in the Yunkerbrau keggerator.