Well… how about that 2016, huh? I don’t know what it is about this year, but people just seem to be having the most miserable mess of things in the temporal fluxification of MMXVI. We lost Bowie, Prince, two-thirds of Emerson Lake & Palmer, and the great Alan Thicke, and we gained a Trump presidency.…
Here’s the thing to keep in mind when reading one of my (or any other self-absorbed, solipsistic, yet ferociously attractive blogging narcissist’s) race reviews, and that is this: what you’re reading is an overly elaborate judgement piece based on prior experience/exposure… or in the case of triathlons, PURE FREAKIN’ ANXIETY. No kidding, though. I mean it.…
I’m not going to shy away from it; I’ve had an absolutely horrible week. It started with me getting a ridiculously horrible flu that knocked me flat on my ass for three days. And that was the good part. Just as I was starting to get back on the mend, the universe sucker-punched me right…
So at the risk at sounding a wee bit solipsistic, I’m sure the $64,000 Question on your mind right now is, “How’s your Chicago Marathon training going, Hokeydude?” If you recall from last April, I was a wee bit overjoyed upon learning that I got a lottery entrance into the 2015 Chicago Marathon — my first…
And we’re back. I want to thank everyone who responded favorably to our post about the 2015 Egg Hunt Triathlon, whether it was on the blog, on Facebook or Twitter, in emails, telepathic inundation, needlecast consciousness transmission, smoke signals, and so forth. That post got a lot of kudos from a lot of people and…
OK… hi! You’re here, and that’s really quite awesome. So while I have your attention, let’s talk a bit about triathlons: what they are, how you get shamefully pressured into doing one, the punishing training involved, the imminent panic, terror, and woe, the anxiety meltdown that leads up to the event, race day itself… and…