I hope I’m not getting mentally slower as I rapidly tumble towards the old folks home. I have an English degree. I push my nose into a book everyday, usually multiple times, not counting comic books. Given those facts, I had trouble keeping track of the characters in the Hardy Boys story within “Hunting for Hidden Gold.” I read enough mysteries here and there to not be taken aback by whodunits and ‘hey, wasn’t he a good guy.’ But, I couldn’t keep pace with this Hardy installment. It had adventure in the Rocky Mountains and the Montana wilderness, but alas, it outran me. Its possible that its written a bit more sloppily than the other stellar entries, but I don’t want that to be my crutch. I read it within a few days, so stretching it over time and losing the thread isn’t a concern. No crutch to be found there. Maybe the DC continuity changes I’m attempting to memorize are shoving it aside. That must be it. I am not proud of this.

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Watching the Ironman competition Sunday morning was fascinating and inspiring. At 8 am I stood on John Nolen Dr. watching the lead competitors ride their time trial bikes while still trying to secure their feet into their cycling shoes (that were already clipped in). I kept wondering, why not burn 30 seconds to fasten the shoes before mounting the bike? They must know what they’re doing, considering they were in the lead. They were off in the 50 degree drizzle for their 112 mile ride, followed by a full marathon. Crazy. For about 24 hours I thought I could do it, and made vague, wide-eyed plans to do so. That desire has now passed. I could do the swimming and cycling rather easily, but the running is impossible. I hate running. I don’t think I could even knock off the half Ironman. Maybe a double metric century is a better goal. It all adds up to fight back the grave a little bit at a time.

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How about those Bears? 26-0 against Green Bay. Behind enemy lines, I couldn’t be more pleased.