This picture is from the Triathlon at Moody Gardens on Galveston a couple weeks ago. The center rider is our son, Charli. The small group comes in for the finish of the 28 mile bike ride and prepares for the 6.1 mile run to finish the Quarter Iron Man.
At the beach in Galveston, our grandson practices the fine art of wave jumping. Our daughter, Vicky, and our son-in-law Aaron, also dip their toes in the salty waves of the Gulf of Mexico
We were in Galveston this weekend for our son, Charlie's (Chuck) first triathalon event. He ran his first marathon in January and ran another one last month. So he decided to see how he would fare with a triathalon. He ran the quarter Ironman -- here he emerges from the 800-meter swim in Galveston Bay, stripping off his wetsuit (the water was 70 degrees) to jump on his bicycle for a 28-mile ride before finishing with a six-mile run.
The event was a better spectator event than the marathon, because they came back near the transition zone several times -- we saw him five times during the race.
Waiting. Waves lapping close. Waiting till the family returns from their sea shell hunt. The buggy sits at the beach in Galveston, TX, on a misty day. Waiting
We've got babies next door! The Mourning Dove that has been silently brooding in the tree out our bedroom windows had her babies last night. She was up cleaning one early this morning. Then, she has tucked them tightly under her for protection. Every once in a while one will push the feathers aside for a peek. We can't wait to capture the first photos when she shows them to the world.
Waiting for dad to come by at the Houston Marathon a couple weeks ago, this young lad took advantage of a nearby hill for some play time. However, with his placard in hand, he seems to be practicing for some oratory. "Friends, Houstonians, countrymen, lend me your ears..."
I can not report this first hand, however, they say that last 200 yards is maybe the toughest in the whole 26.213 miles of a marathon. If it is so, then you'll pull out any stops to get you over the line. At the recent Houston Marathon, this man's whole family came out for that last two grueling blocks of running -- 26.2 miles behind you. Now it's the .013 miles left.
The smiling, laughing faces of your loved ones, full of pride, urge you to the finish. You can do this -- suddenly your legs realize it's do-able and spring back to life. The message spreads up to your brain. You lift your eyes and fix them on that clock counting out the seconds. In your mind, you are already there. You did it. They did it -- they gave you that last burst of energy.
By the way, his tag says his name is Victor. The shirt says "It's all about love. How much do you love yourself?"
While we were standing around in Houston waiting for the marathon runners to come by, this scene unfolded across the street. The Methodist church is down by the museum district but looks like a scene from some European country, 1800's. The vestments that the service offerers were wearing hearkened me back to my younger years.
These lily pads get to play in the sun on the tranquil Rio Dulce (sweet river)in Guatemala. We took the boat ride up from Livingston two years ago. Along the way, scenery was amazing cliffs and hillsides along with waterfront bungalows where the locals lived and earned their living. Sweet River, sweet life.
Alone with your thoughts and a gentle breeze that keeps bringing you back to the moment. The lake is whispering in staccato cadences -- white sounds that enclose you from the traffic far away. The sun has to use glitters on the waves to get your attention because the canopy of green above you won't let him intrude on your moment.
The thoughts flow and flow. Slowly you are becoming at peace with your cares.
As in a dream, you don't want to be aroused. "Let me just juggle my thoughts some more." The day will slowly melt. Time isn't what's important. Another day will come to take its place. But this time, this moment with your new peace, it can't be replaced or regained.
The famous Soji Tabuchi Show in Branson Missouri is not just a delight for the ears. The show comes right at you with a cornucopia of colors and images. I have to admit I was skeptical going into the show. But I came out a fan.
--steve buser
It's an all-American tradition, the holiday parade (Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukah, and more I guess) . However, when you have the mountains as a backdrop, it just seems a little more poignant. Certainly it has a more patriot feel to it. This is from Asheville around Thanksgiving a few years ago. We were visiting my daughter, Vicky and her family.
I can not report this first hand, however, they say that last 200 yards is maybe the toughest in the whole 26.213 miles of a marathon. If it is so, then you'll pull out any stops to get you over the line. At the recent Houston Marathon, this man's whole family came out for that last two grueling blocks of running -- 26.2 miles behind you. Now it's the .013 miles left.
While we were standing around in Houston waiting for the marathon runners to come by, this scene unfolded across the street. The Methodist church is down by the museum district but looks like a scene from some European country, 1800's. The vestments that the service offerers were wearing hearkened me back to my younger years.
These lily pads get to play in the sun on the tranquil Rio Dulce (sweet river)in Guatemala. We took the boat ride up from Livingston two years ago. Along the way, scenery was amazing cliffs and hillsides along with waterfront bungalows where the locals lived and earned their living. Sweet River, sweet life.
The famous Soji Tabuchi Show in Branson Missouri is not just a delight for the ears. The show comes right at you with a cornucopia of colors and images. I have to admit I was skeptical going into the show. But I came out a fan.
--steve buser
It's an all-American tradition, the holiday parade (Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukah, and more I guess) . However, when you have the mountains as a backdrop, it just seems a little more poignant. Certainly it has a more patriot feel to it. This is from Asheville around Thanksgiving a few years ago. We were visiting my daughter, Vicky and her family.
