Iron Turkeys--A Thanksgiving Tale

Thankful for another year of good health and plenty, 7000 Pilgrims met in Houston to trot---before consuming mass quantities of calories and watching obese men fight over an oblong ball on their high definition television sets.





Some of the Pilgrims were trotting for the first time ever--even though they had a sore knee and probably felt pressured by the Iron Patriarchy to suck it up buttercup and do it anyway because she had done all the training before taking her freak fall with the blown out flip flop.





But the Pilgrims also had support from friends and family.






And, like the first Thanksgiving, the Native Americans participated with their Anglo friends.






At first the Anglos were concerned that the Native Americans might be hostile.






But the Native Americans were friendly and helped the Pilgrims with their race gear and timing chips and such---before running a 37 minute 10K.

Yeah, those Indians are fast and used to run distance for the local U.





And Superpounce ran across the line with Mrs. Pilgrim just like it was an Ironman. Pilgrim ran all the way, all 5ks.

Fame in my Flip Flops

I was both humbled and gratified upon being notified by the Iron Kahuna of my academy award for best supporting actor. (I'll expect my Speedo-bedecked statuette any day in the mail). No, seriously I was. To be regarded as generous and supportive is quite a change. In times past, social shyness has been mistaken as arrogance, someone I don't want to be. Today, if you want an encourager or a cheering section, I'm your guy.

Buuuuuuuuut, I feel like my 15 minutes of triathlete fame is a bit tarnished--sort of like showing up at the Whitehouse to meet the President in your flip flops. (See the girls in the front row at the left side). Consider all the studly race photos and profile pics of me out there in the public domain, all of the many options to show off my triathlete hawtedness. Does the Kahuna pick those?

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Curly Su gets to look lovely and complex in her beautiful, pensive pose.

Triboomer and Comm look all studly, racing on the Ironman course.

Iron Wil and IronJenny gaze at us in their beautiful serenity.

Even Bold--he gets to pose with a hawt biker chick.

Greyhound? Not so much. Mouse ears.

Maybe my massive publicity campaign offended the academy voters. Oh well. I'm not one to complain. My publicist and my people, however, thought we should get some competing photos out there. Actually, I have some race photos saved up from the Disney Marathon that I have been meaning to share. They actually tell the story of the race pretty well. (Tri-Chica oggling is highly encouraged. Being oggled is still a delightful and new experience for me.)

The start was magnificent and exciting:




But the weather was skanky. This is about mile 11. Just look at the humidity:



It got hotter, and I got slower. Mile 17 in the Animal Kingdom. At this point I am faking a decent stride:




This is mile 20 or so. Much of the last 10 miles of the race being in the full sun on unforgiving, concrete road surfaces:




Mile 23 -- forward motion has slowed considerably:



But no matter how much you beg, I won't share the special picture Mrs. Greyhound took of me when we were alone that night.

HA! MADE YOU LOOK!