I lost a fight to a river.

The gym floor was being replaced, so I went fishing. I arrived early, which my friend treated as a personality flaw. He rigged the rod for me after I donated a good lure to a tree that had done nothing to deserve it.

A bass hit anyway. We let it go. I have ended men's nights and I still felt guilty about a fish the size of a shoe. We ate sandwiches and did not talk about the next camp until the drive home, and even then only because the radio died.

Best day of that year that did not involve a purse. The river did not know my record. The sunburn did not care. I slept like a man who had won something he could not frame.