Don't it always seem to go...

Yesterday I finally got out on the bike with the guys. It felt good, but today a giant cup of coffee and the remainder of Romeo & Juliet with the girls seemed the way to go.  Later on I jumped on the trainer and pondered the end of all things.  The end of Battlestar Galactica is one that I'm struggling with.  This was a month long love affair that I will always cherish.  Kara Thrace, you provide inspiration for kick-ass girls everywhere!

Katee Sackhoff as Starbuck

And, well, now that BG is finished I need to find another entertainment source to fuel hours of trainer time.  YouTube, anyone? The possibilities are endless.  I find myself sucked into another vortex of looking back at the '70s and childhood. Where else would I go right now?  Look at Joni, she's so lovely and timeless.

Countdown to the insanity...

I feel sexier just looking at these tights! Who needs to exercise?

Well, it looks like about twenty seven weeks until Ironman Wisconsin.  I'm registered, but I'm not exactly enrolled.  Having a hard time justifying the time and energy required prior to event, when there is so much else to do, both required and recreational.  It's never too late to start training, however, and it's truly never too late to start gearing up.  Take, for example, what I stumbled upon while I was perusing the web for some new running shoes (yes, I buy my shoes online and I can't really say I feel guilty about it, given the weak selection of retail outlets here in suburbia).  But here they are, tights that will actually make my legs stronger and more rested, just by wearing them.  Price?  $175 (and that's with my VIP discount).  Needless to say, these tights are primarily targeted at triathletes--who else would blow a few days pay on leg covering?
Remember the '70's and '80's, when running was the domain of skinny guys in college towns like Eugene who grew long-ish hair and ate nuts and grains?  No longer so.  Lost souls of endurance sports, where are we?

Grete Waitz

Check out  Leo Kulinski's website. He has fantastic photos of bygone days.  Here's one of my all time heroes, Grete Waitz.  I think of her often. In fact, just the other day during a long run I remembered what she said about coming to the United States to run.  She observed that Americans were so crazed about running that they ran in place at traffic lights.  While I was bouncing around (or was I actually standing around?)  at the corner of LaGrange Road and 26th, I was reminded of this comment.

Not happy on the app front

Hildebrand Sporting Goods. Need I say more? How beautiful is this? Picked up everything I needed at the hardware store next door and I was off on my run. Beautiful morning, lucky me.  I've realized that blogging on the smartphone isn't all that I want it to be, thus a faulty entry and days waiting for upload that never happened.  I'm sure it's something that will be resolved before too long.  I'm also sort of curious about the location of the blog post itself.  I'm adding this text on my computer, but I started the post on the phone.  If I delete the entry from my phone, it is then lost to me forever.  Ah, impermanence!  I suppose it's all inevitable.

the dark side...

What better way to celebrate one's fourteenth wedding anniversary than to go to the downtown W with a stack of yarn and my new smartphone? Peter suggested that I might want to borrow his laptop. Hah! I've got my android!

Remembering...and endings....

photo credit: addie, ca 2008

all around us.  I guess it's that way all the time, but sometimes we feel it more intensely.  Every moment, every friend, every workout, every song, every creation, every meal, every sunset.  Remember the first time you heard The Message? I do.

The coldest day of the year in Chicagoland

Yes, that's what Peter told me, but i'm not buying it.  The sun was out, there was no wind, no precipitation, and perfect snow for skiing after lunchtime.  Around here, it doesn't get any better than this.  You might wonder where all the other people are. Maybe they were huddling around space heaters in their cubicles, stuck in traffic, or picking new color schemes for their bathrooms.
As usual in the land of Cook County Forest Preserves, I saw a few creepy looking early model sedans and some really fancy looking town cars that just don't fit into the whole "active outdoors" subculture.  Maybe some mucky-mucks in the county government driving around surveying the pristine wilderness.

have minivan, will travel.

who said IL is ugly, moi?

Natural waterway, unobstructed beauty.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. I do not want this to become a sort of referendum on life in Chicagoland, but really, how can people be so cruel as to walk right across many kilometers of ski tracks?  I know we have many novice outdoorsfolk in the land, but really. Who hasn't played with matchbox cars and those long rubbery tracks that we all had in the '70s?  It's like going over the nice  smooth track with a pizza cutter. The other day in Hinsdale I actually saw the perpetrators and they had the nerve to smile and say hello to me from their stance in the middle of the ski path.  They really don't know, I suppose.

Peter and I noticed a similar problem when we moved to IL from VT on sledding hills.

 But then, who am I kidding?  This is the mighty state of Illinois, and, after all, a terrifically lawless place.  My idyll is interrupted by the roar of the overpass and the decision of whether to cross the county line beneath this aging cement behemoth or turn back and loop around to the car.

In The Road the skies are dark and the water is black...well...blacker...

View from the other side.

And we move forward, to our destination, whatever that is.

Austin Boulevard, almost home.

Only 30 minutes home, so that's a good thing.  The gift of Nan allowed me to squeeze extra snow time and less carpool time.  Nice to see some concerned voters putting up a sign for their candidate in the ever exciting mayoral race.  Who might possibly pull this one off?  It is Chicago, after all.

Starts with SN....

Ashby's pic, from kitchen window

The Chairs.

It snowed this week in our town.  At first I was enlivened by the prospect of skiing, but, really, we weren't supposed to drive anywhere and the kids were home from school for two whole days.  By the end of day number two we were digging tunnels in the snow and I was inside ferociously knitting socks for Ashby.  There is photographic evidence, however: