PBR

Sadness.  The PBR (Professional Bull Riders) is coming to Chicago, which is a mere hour or so from where I live, and I can't go.  It's been four years since I last went, and every year, I long to go back.  Why? one may ask.  Simple.

I'm in the middle of a cowboy obsession.  

Wait, this obsession never really goes away...so can I be in the middle of it?

Anyway....

Before the riding even starts, the cowboys all remove their hats to pray.  And to me, there's nothing more masculine or blood-heating than a man who will bow before his heavenly Father.

But then to watch the sheer determination of the cowboy to stay on that leaping, spinning bull...it takes your breath away.

Eight seconds never seemed longer to me.

And when the riders take that bull to the full eight seconds and they leap off to the thunderous applause of thousands of fans, it's amazing that they don't stand there and bask in the glory.  

In fact, most will tip their hats to the crowd and get back behind the gates.

Humility must come from being on the back of a wild, 1800+ pound critter who's only goal is to make you go away.  Even if that takes hooves in your chest.

*sigh*  I'll just have to watch it on TV, I guess.