It's Sad, So Sad

I got a comment from my niece Sarah about my blog about the year the family triathlon, which we called the Ironola, fell apart. I'm sure that only in the interest of historical accuracy, she corrected my account and let me know she was 9 the year she won, not 11. How humiliating! I was 39, and all but 2 of my siblings were younger than that. The person who suffered the worst humiliation, however, was the boyfriend of one of my nieces. He was going to the University of Minnesota on a track scholarship, and I'm sure thought that he would be teaching all of us a lesson about how real athletes perform. I don't remember where he placed in the competition, but the idea that a 9 year old girl had beaten him was too much to take--he hid in his cabin the rest of the week. Poor guy--I wonder if he still recoils at the memory.

Sara, here's my wish for you. See this picture of your adorable daughter:


I hope that we reinstitute the Ironola this year and that it continues, and that 7 short years from now when Naomi is 9 and you are 37 (about the age I was when you won the Ironola), she beats you in it. Then, and only then will justice prevail.

The proof that yesterday's workout was as tough as I thought came through today. My muscles are so sore! I've been getting out of my chair like a 90 year old and creaking around until my muscles get a little warmed up. I love that feeling, especially at a time like this when I've been working out regularly--I know I'm pushing myself to a new level of fitness.

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