Still, amid the storms of the presidency, their basic worldviews would shape their presidencies. Obama is instinctively a conversationalist and community-mobilizer. Clinton, as she says, will fight and fight. If elected, she’ll have the power to take the Hobbesian struggle she perceives, and turn it into remorseless reality.

That is all. Interesting to see just how different Bill and Hillary end up being. Not a surprise, at second glance, for those of us who are married. I’m certainly one of those Democrats who find the long campaign hardening me against the other side. More than anything, the persistant politiking and intellectual dishonesty (gas tax holiday). That for me, more than anything, is my greivance against Shrubie.

Beyond (and in addition) to all that, I’m tired. Slept for a solid 8 hours last night, woke with the sun at 0512. Morning was entierly routine, and now (banana snack nonewithstanding) I’m crashing and ready for a nap. This is I suppose how it ought to be after such a manic week, it’d just be convenient if work wasn’t so intractable.

On an exciting note, the bikes (plural!) are back up and almost fully functional. I’ve missed the Lev, and even though I’m waiting for the rear wheel to return from Iowa, I’m looking forward to taking it out on a light spin this evening in it’s current two rings and one cog iteration. Fiddling with the ergons last night made me optimistic about their future. My ulnar area was quite sore at the end of White Rim. It does feel weird to sit on something that sinks, though.

Lastly, something I’ve been putting off for about 36 hours now: Fat Cyclist. I don’t read Elden’s blog too often, I don’t find it particularly interesting, and anyone who’s ridden the Kokopelli in a day has abdicated their right to ever call themselves fat. But his wife’s plight, and particularly that of their sons, hit me right in the gut. That was me 18 years ago. My dad’s cancer metastisized to his brain, and it was game over. Once it took hold he had months to live, but we lost him much sooner. The pressure in the skull turned him into a dessicated shell of his former self. I wonder if I’ll ever find the memories from those years, stuffed as they are into the darkest corners of my mind. It took me quite a few years to return to anything like normal.

There wasn’t really much anyone could have done to’ve made that better. I’ve thought about it a great deal in the last few years, using the insight that only distance can give. I can’t think of anything. It just took time; lots of awkward and painful years. And a wonderful spouse. What’s worse than other souls in the world enduring that? Being unable to stop it.

That would be endurance.