Balding men

Blog fan,

     I'm so sorry. I've been working my way back to you, babe. Both physically and creatively, I have been coming back from the hard hit of the shingles virus. With one of my favorite and most dreaded races coming up this week, I'll be riding the motivational wave and will hopefully keep the blog fresh.


First, I will discuss one of the progressively less deniable aspects of aging; male pattern baldness. In my adult life, I have scripted a hand-full of jokes to suggest that this loss of tresses is ok with me, but lately, it has been giving me a little grief. My best joke involves me putting four fingers on my forehead and exclaiming that I actually have a five-head.


To make me feel better, here are some kick-ass heroes who keep it fresh, even when they are a little thin on top.

I know that i'm not an action hero, or a tennis star, or breaking any gender barriers, but it does make me feel  just that much more potent to see folks like this in my pop culture periodicals.

This offers a perfect segway to a little race report. About three weeks back, I took the day off work and headed back to the Lewie Duie, or Lewiston Duathlon, an event at which I was bested by this fellow:

 He is also bald, and his name is Ed Hirsch. Most importantly, he knows volumes about cabbage production, and also about being YOUR future city/county/twp. attorney. I bequeathed him my Grizzly elite heat slot for his courage and magnificence in the month of March, which means that for the first time in 11 years, I will be racing with the age-groupers. 

Lewie Don'tie

Since being punched by a middle-aged woman earlier this year for my circle-swimming etiquette, I am attempting to pull every string that I can to ensure a sympathetic lane come Saturday. (This was my second time being assaulted by a woman at the pool).     

For a return to the topic of my glorious hair, I was watching some sweet online videos made by a band called Fun, and decided I'd like to emulate their lead singer. He looks like this: 

After arriving home from work, I explained to my wonderful life and training partner that I was after a more "moppish" look. After 10 minutes of her laughter, it began to feel a little insulting. Fortunately, she had the tact to lock herself in the bathroom to finish her chuckle-fest.


This was the end result:

On to my pre-Grizzly training binge: with my recovery from geriatric herpes, I have been back on the warpath. I figured out the secret of running home from the group home where I work, which has done wonders for my metabolism and consistency.  Since the latter of these two has been absent from my other sports, I have tried the indirect approach supplied by an out-of-context recommendation by one of my favorite exercise prescribers, Dr. Steve Gaskill. I have been hitting my private weight room on a regular basis, and doubt that a few months of muscle pain will actually result in a satisfactory bike split.

As for the pool, which I avoided pretty intently while marked with grown-up chicken pox, I must admit that weights are working out. I have experienced a few short weeks of training there and have seen some great results as I raced people at the pool who didn't know they were even in a race.

In this last phase of training, I have been appreciative mostly of my awesome training companion. She has endured quite a few miles riding next to me whilst I ran. Her tolerance and hospitality earned her a reference as "mini Tana Seeley," which is pretty much the ultimate distinction in multi-sport spousehood. Here she is on an early Saturday morning next to the famed Missoula bear cages.

Look forward to a Grizzly tri steamer in the next few days.