Possible New Goal for 2013

The Celtman Triathlon. Comes long enough after the Rome Marathon to recuperate and get excited about another overseas trip. This appears to be another in the genre of races made for those of us who have found we'll never be fast, so we have to be daring. Or something like that.

Reunion of the Mega-Powers

Huffman.  Waller.  Many others. Loyola Consumer Law Review symposium on The Continuing Effect of the Mortgage Crisis on Consumers.  February 24, 2012.  Full Details at http://www.luc.edu/law/activities/publications/clrsymposium/index.html.
 

But will there be running?

Before the Super Bowl

It was 4 PM Sunday and the sun came out on a day in the low 40s.  A full moon was rising over the lake and seemingly every runner in Chicago was out on the lakefront path.  Class prep was under control (but not my looming March article deadline) so I hit the trail.  In Hollywood, the call it the Golden Hour.  Just lovely. 

John Le Carre

I've only recently discovered the masterful trilogy about George Smiley's "circus" of British intelligence. I bought the books after reading a review of the Gary Oldman version of Tinker Tailor, and though I enjoyed the movie, nothing is quite like these books. They are true spy thrillers without any cheap action sequences, the hero is fat, balding and cuckolded, the other players are lecherous, alcoholic and semi-untrustworthy. The circus accomplishes its spying through painstaking research and very little else. It's just marvelous.

Barefoot Running

Paul Kedrosky posted this short satirical video, which I find hilarious. So here it is.

A Year Ago

There was 28 inches of snow on the ground.  Today it was high 40s and sunny.  So I went running ...in shorts.

One of the Greatest Individual Athletic Performances

I did something I almost never do, which is watch a Comcast Sports Classic broadcast, which is a fancy marketing term for a rerun.  It was Game 5 of the 1997 NBA finals between the Bulls and the Utah Jazz. It wasn't the Bulls last championship which was the following year or even the last game of the '97 finals.

But what made it special and awe inspiring was Michael.  Jordan had the flu, looked terrible, appeared to feel worse, and was throwing up before the game and during half time.  During the various timeouts he slumped on the bench with ice packs on his neck, a towel over his head, often too weak to drink anything.  Some how he managed to play 44 of the 48 minutes, score in the high thirties, rebound and defend with intensity, and even shake off the defender to score the game winning three pointer before collapsing into the arms of Scottie Pippin as the Bulls left the floor.  He could barely talk in the interview after the game but said it was all about will.  Indeed.  I want to be like Mike.  Even a little.