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Showing posts from August, 2009


It's that time of year again. As Ironman races click by, I wonder if another one is in the cards. The internal debate rages on, pro and con lists are made, finances examined, locales researched and my desire to once again embrace that lifestyle is scrutinized. Do I have another 140.6 mile day in me?

True blue triathletes don't need to think about it. It's what they live and breath. Two and sometimes three (freaks!) Ironman races a season are standard. I don't know these people personally, but I've heard the myths. Their social lives are based on swim, bike and run - and maybe one beer before their heads hit the pillow. This is not me.

Completing two IM races in eight years (plus one DNF at mile 13 of the run) does not make me seasoned. (Photo is from IM-Florida in 2007.) I'm no poser, but the 140.6 sticker on my car is starting to mock me. It's been nearly two years and it either needs to be removed or I have to step it up.

How can my desire to race a year fro…

Sophie Day

I've been dogsitting for Sophie the last couple days, so dog thoughts are running through my mind...Sophie was born on Christmas Eve 1998 in Richmond, Missouri, one of a litter of fourteen. By the time I first laid eyes on her two months later, it was just she and a sister pup left. “Pick me!” she seemed to say, paws propped up on the plywood divider. Her sister was more docile, which I thought might be a better choice. Never having owned a dog, I believed docile meant easy. But Mike convinced me otherwise.The breeder was tired. Selling 12 golden retrievers would be enough to wear anyone out. She said she’d give us a hell of a deal if we took them both. But I was overwhelmed with just one puppy, so we declined. Instead, Sophie Day (named after Sophia Loren and her penchant for black eyeliner) boarded the SUV bound for Kansas City.It has been over a decade since Sophie trotted into my life and to regale all the dog stories would require a novel instead of a blog entry.She is still …