Freshly crowned, with honor bright,
Stood Sir Seid, the noble knight.
When Isabella, loud and proud,
Issued a challenge to the crowd.

“A race!” she cried, “Let speed decide—
If you’re a knight… or just a guy.”
The crowd leaned in, the stakes now clear,
But something felt… a little weird.

Before the start—no signal given—
She launched ahead like she was driven.
“WAIT—that counts!” she yelled mid-run,
As if the race had just begun.

The crowd went, “Uhhh… that’s kinda wild,”
Sir Seid just blinked… then calmly smiled.
He took his step, then one, then two—
Like, “Alright… guess I’ll still beat you.”

Then mid-race—her “clever” plan,
A move that seemed… better in her head than in the plan.
She gave a shove—quick, a bit too bold,
Like that might help her take the gold.

The crowd went quiet—“wait… did she just—?”
Sir Seid kept running (as he must).
No panic, no stumble, nothing to prove,
Just kept his pace like, “interesting move.”

Her confidence wavered, just for a sec,
Game plan slowly turning into “what the heck?”
You could almost hear her thinking mid-run:
“…yeah, that probably wasn’t the one.”

No stumble, no panic, no dramatic fall,
Just slight confusion—that was all.
Then whoosh—he passed, clean and fast,
Like, “yeah… that trick was not gonna last.”

The finish line came—hope decreased,
Her speed went down… her breathing increased.
While Sir Seid crossed—cool, complete,
Like he just went out to stretch his feet.

She dropped to knee—dramatic display,
Replaying every bad choice that day.
“I lost…” she said—short and plain,
Probably blaming the shove… the wind… the lane.

And somewhere nearby, the lesson was cast:
You don’t need tricks if you’re built to be fast.

The Knighting of Sir Seid (as performed by Lady Aspen)

In a courtyard bright with arches tall,
Where drama kids and chaos call,
Young Seid knelt down upon the floor—
Unsure what fate had in store.

Lady Aspen raised her stick with grace,
A knightly smirk upon her face.
“By powers granted… mostly by me,
You’re now a knight of NWC!”

Tap on the shoulder—bonk on the head,
“Don’t mess this up,” the Lady said.
“Protect the snacks, defend the crew,
And bring back coffee when we ask you.”

Behind them stood the Royal Scribe,
Recording proof for the group chat vibe.
For legends fade and stories lie—
But memes, dear knight, will never die.

So rise, Sir Seid, brave and bold,
With courage… and maybe a student loan hold.
Guard the realm from boredom and doom,
And occasionally reserve the practice room.

For knighthood isn’t swords or fame,
It’s helping friends and taking blame.
And thus by Aspen’s mighty decree—

Sir Seid of the Courtyard,
Protector of Vibes,
Defender of Snacks,
Knight of Mild Confusion,
Has officially been… knighted.

Now go forth, Sir Seid.

But first…

Bring Aspen coffee. ☕⚔️

Eric and Stetson checking out the bobsled at Utah Olympic Park. No medals were won that day, but at least nobody crashed the sled.

Eric looks way too proud of that plate of mac and cheese like he personally cooked it, invented it, and deserves a Michelin star for it.

Utah Olympic Park: home of world-class athletes and one very confused group of debaters.

Dinner after judging in Cheyenne. Isabella didn’t like her meal, so Seid’s soup suddenly became “our soup.”

While most people go to SeaWorld for dolphins, Katie went for the souvenirs… and somehow ended up armed.

At SeaWorld in San Diego, Stetson discovered two things: the aquarium is cool, and crawling through children’s tunnels is harder than it looks.