Actually, I don't fish.
And anyway, it's winter. And I definitely don't ice fish, though I did grow up in Maine, where people do, in fact, go ice fishing.
My very very very first boyfriend sometimes went ice fishing. And duck hunting. And in the summer he lobstered. He had these extremely tall rubber boots he would wear to school sometimes after a morning of duck hunting. I loved those boots. Why did I love those boots?
I can't think of a suitable excuse as to why I haven't been blogging lately. So I will leave it as Gone Fishing.
I did write an article for a new online publication called Sparrow Magazine. My friend Emilie (editor) invited me to write it, and I am grateful. It turned out as I wanted it to, in the end, although there were moments when writing it that I wondered what the hell I was saying and where I was going with it. Anyway, thank you, Emilie. I have tried and tried to convey in my writing why triathlon is so important to me. It is hard to convey because it sort of defies logic. Why would I want to add more to an already overwhelming and busy life, and why would I take a "hobby"-so incredibly seriously?
Here it is.