Do you guys remember that the year I was diagnosed (2010) I was training for an Olympic Triathlon? Well, obviously that crumbled, but this winter I decided to use my good health to take a tour of not what could have been – but is about to be. I don’t know if that makes sense, but what I’m trying to say is that I’m snatching up opportunities to challenge myself; to get back to living the life I was born to enjoy. That includes challenging myself physically like the mad runner that I always was. One thing that I’ve learned about myself is that competing, although awesome, isn’t as fun unless you don’t take yourself too seriously. Wow, how is it that I can speak in double negatives, yet I can never, for the life of me, understand it when others do. (Or maybe that wasn’t a double negative. The mystery is on). I digress. So, a year or so ago, someone stole my bike, the bike we would use for speed and comfort. But with friends like ours, it is of no surprise that my buddy Laura lent me her 6 speed beach cruiser to galavant around the hoods of Seattle. She’s rusty, but trusty, and when I hit the never expecting bump from our evergreen roots, the bell dings on its’ own. I am a sight to see, I’m sure, if not for a lesson in humility. Next month, I am coming up on the 1500 meter swim (haven’t swam since dunking myself in the sound on Saturday and it was a real in and out moment), the 25 mile bike ride (just imagine the cacophony of dings as I race around the course), and the final 10k which is about 10 times longer than I’ve been running….