***This is a contest. The fictional letter set out below is chock full of references to 70s and 80s bands, song titles and lyrics. Whoever identifies the most references wins some fabulous Greyhound Schwag. Contest rules are in the comment section.****Dear Ironman:
It's been quite a journey these last three years of Ironman races. It seems funny to call you Ironman, for it is clear that you are an unforgiving mistress--more like an iron maiden if you ask me, cold as ice. All we do crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see.
And poor Mrs. Greyhound an iron widow. She was just a small town girl. We were just two American kids doing the best they can. Those crazy nights, I do remember, in my youth. I close my eyes, only for a moment and the moment's gone. Sometimes, the best that you can do is fall in love.
Now its me out training, while she sits, alone, an empty stare, a mother's face she wears. Heartache to heartache we stand. People always told me, "Be careful what you do. Don't go around breaking young girls' hearts." I'll be lucky if she doesn't tcall the Police and tell me to "beat it," or at least "don't stand so close to me."
And no matter how much I train, you cry, "More, more more." You sink your teeth down to my bone. You make it hurt so good. You're a real tough cookie with a long history. But I've seen the toughest around.
Now I fear my body is going. Losing ground, I'm reaching for you. Oh, well. Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky. Sure, I'd like to finish an Ironman in about 12 hours. Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? 12 hours? Only in my dreams. Out of the blue. All my money won't another minute buy.
And yet I'm addicted to love. Caught in a landslide--no escape from reality. It ain't the way you move. It ain't the way you move me. I can't escape. I'm shot through the heart, and you're to blame. And very soon, I'll be a foreigner racing in Mexico. I imagine riding my bike through a flock of seagulls, a painted sign on the side of the road saying, "15 miles to the Love Shack," dancing the night away, going sailing and Mrs. Greyhound with a drink in her hand and her toes in the sand. Pretty maids all in a row. Come on set 'em up.
But that's after the race. Don't tell me you love me. Just bring it, Ironman. Any way the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me. Hit me with your best shot. Sometimes I think I'll lay it down, but I gotta keep on rocking. I just can't stop. (You can still rock in America, can't you?) I was born to run. I was born to dream. I keep my motor clean. I wanna be a man in motion. We all need new frontiers. So, I'll keep on running.
Forever yours,
Greyhound
Greyhound
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8 comments:
OK, here are the rules. For song titles and lyrics you must give me the title and the artist. For references to an artist, just give me the artist name. If there is more than one reference to a song, tell me how many and what they are. Whoever gets the most wins. If there's a tie, the first one in wins. The winner has to send me a picture on which we intend to photoshop some 80s hair.
Good Luck!!
Ugh, I refuse to play. Waaaaay too many references to Billy Joel, Pat Benetar, Michael Jackson, The Police, John Cougar (Mellencamp), ... I could go on. But, I refuse. Next post should have more of a "butt rock" theme if you want me to play. ;)
For the record, there's no Billy Joel in there--at least not intentionally.
Oh my...In between lawyering, fathering and training, you had time to develop this?! I'm not sure what is more pathetic--the fact that you developed this contest or the fact that I intend to win it :-)
Even though you are going to say I wussed out on today's workout, I am too brain fogged to catch all of the references.
You just had longer time on the bike with no one to amuse you to come up with all of this. I blame Coach Chris. Heck I blame myself for not riding the full four hours with you.
By the way, sweet tie in that picture. Too bad I don't have a picture of me with an Aqua Net "Hair Claw" and some Madonna stretchy lace and some neon. I would let you post that pic if I did enter the contest and win. Carrie is too competitive, she would whoop my ass on this one.
One more rule: e-mail your answer to me at trigreyhound at yahoo dot com rather than posting on line. That way you don't give it all away. Take it on the run, baby. 'cuz that's the way you want it baby.
This is funny ... but perhaps I should do some lawyer-ing myself (I'm a prosecutor -- what kind of law do you practice) ;)
WTF is going on there in your picture? do you really have a mullet?
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