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???? ????..."Borscht Eater"...

jon

Going Off Course - There is sooooo much to admire about St. Paul triathlete Jon Pearce (photo L). He's an ontrayprenewer (phonetic spelling), humanist, a CEO and founder of a cool and totally important enterprise, he speaks Russian and can read Cyrillic letters (see alphabet below) and he "almost" has an MBA. Not bad for a guy who is barely 30 and used to wash cars at Thrifty.

Guys like Jon need to procreate, though he has yet to do so. Get busy, Jon. The world needs more clever, well-traveled, accomplished folks with altruistic tendencies.

Jon Pearce is also a lactose-intolerant carnivore who is in rehab attempting to conquer his addiction to Peanut Butter Oreos. He loves "Borat" and guava-flavored stuff and sometimes eats borscht (photo below) on purpose....

Roses Are Red, Violets are Blue Stuff...

cupidFREE LOVE, FREE SWAG AND AFFECTIONATE DISCOUNTS

IT's Big 15...

itBy Warren Peece

On February 4, triathlon.competitor.com posted Inside Triathlon's Top 15 Greatest Male Triathletes of All Time. After studying the formidable roster, I came away totally disappointed.

Why, you ask?

Because I agreed with all but one of their selections! Where's the fun in that! I wanted controversy. I wanted to get pissed. I wanted to flaunt my superior knowledge. I wanted to elevate myself at their expense. But, goshdarnit, IT did a heckuva job...

Thinky Feely Survey...

einieED. A few days back we received this e-mail from college professor/doctoral candidate Matt Stenson. He's an Einie-smart guy and a card carrying member of The Tribe. We encourage you to read his note and take his survey.

Dear MTN Guys:

My name is Matt Stenson. Michael Williams (3xMN Junior of the Year!) suggested I contact you; he said you might be able to help me out. I teach psychology courses at the College of St. Benedict in Minnesota, and I am a triathlete. I am currently working on my dissertation, and I am studying the thoughts and feelings of triathletes....

Buff Girl, Smoker Boy....

bonBy Bonnie Repunzel

There he was, standing at the edge of the shore line, watching the elites go crashing into the water like a flock of geese going after the prize fish. Like a pillar of pure athleticism, he wore his "onezy" with pride for all the world to see. It was white. And it was tight.

I walked down to him to make light conversation, neither one of us glancing to the side to see what the other looked like. It didn't matter. We were wearing swim caps.

He was spry and I was old so his wave took off first. That was the last time I saw him. Until I passed him on the run. I could hear him huffing and puffing as I sailed up behind him trying to recall if this was the same guy I saw earlier on the shoreline wearing semi illegal clothing. Yep, same guy. "Stay up with me!" I encouraged him. "Gasp! Puff" was all I heard from behind me...

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