Döppeldönger DFL
A strong visual always nails the concept. "A man alone with his thoughts lives in a crowded house" —Don Juan Castaneda, "Conversations With Maestro Sevende Sandia" Seconds before the start I realized I’d left my hand-held back in the car, a quarter-mile away. Holy Shit! So I sprinted back, got it, and burst through the start. And everybody had gone. This was a definite first, a DFL start with Boner Mileage. It was a fitting preview bookend to my 10:00:35 DFL finish *. The start was a clear, calm and very cold 28F start, a sharp drop from the balmy 44F at home. All you Midwesterners can go fuck, it's SoCal. I was feeling totally naked, and only half-afraid. It was so cold, that even the venerable John Vanderpot wore long pants. Ultra-couture aside, staying ahead of cutoffs at this late stage was my only goal. Say goodbye to my little friend As this is a physical sport, your body makes its wishes known clearly. Gwyneth Paltrow should take note. At ...