Holy Poseidon, I'm in

So K, decides he's proved himself after a couple of years, and there is no way I'm going the whole distance. He floats the idea of a relay.

Hmm. I can get into that. Of course I get the swim, or maybe the bike. Who am I kidding, the swim, or nothing. they can decide on bike or run, but the swim is mine. I swam competitively for years, I have no worries. I did 7000-12,000 yard practices since I was 12, in all conditions, with pnemonia, sprained ankles, drunk, after all nighters at 5 am when I was younger, the mile or so swim is no problem. We used to do two miles first practice day of the season. Hell, in my prime I did a mile in seventeen minutes and change once. A mile, that's nothing.

I'll jump in my pool a few times every week, the 36 foot pool, and do an hour of laps at a time. I'll be all set. no worries. Water will never kill me.

Yeah, good plan. Take it seriously.

What the hell? August already? Once a week just ain't cutting it.

OK. Timberman is here. We walk down to the beach at 5, and I may be a little keyed up. I puke up the Carnation Instant regurgitaion fuel about halfway down the street, and K is all heart. I think he may still be laughing. The volunteers scrawl my age on my arm, and also a big letter C.

For Clydesdale. Damn, we have a weight class, not an age class.

They walk me down to the water, where we wait for the start. I won't boor you with the details pf pre race, because they would.

Suffice to say Clydesdales go last this year, so I wait for all the 3% body fat insanos to go. Our nice, calm lake is now a maelstrom. Uh oh. Maybe K was right, shoulda done some open water. Or maybe not eaten that side of beef the night before. Or even agreed to this madness. What the hell was I thinking.