I cook a lot of American, Italian, French food – I sometimes venture to Asia, but I have never cooked Indian food in my life. It sounds like I missed the boat, but I lived in a carriage house for 8 years on “Curry Row” in NYC (6th Street between 1st & 2nd Ave). This is a small street with approximately 20 Indian restaurants. My house was in the center of the block and the kitchen of one of the Indian restaurants faced my house. The kitchen staff were very cool and would send waiters into my house and serve me there. Why cook Indian food when you can get Chicken Tikki Masala brought with a moment’s notice?

I moved out of that carriage house, am no longer overloaded by it all and decided to try my hand. First, make some Basmati rice. Second, make some Chicken Tikki Masala.

Sound easy? Well, it actually is. It’s really a tomato based sauce with some type of dairy product to cut it, and lots of spices. I looked at a few recipes and freestyled my own. Here’s some inspiration:

Recipe 1, Recipe 2, Recipe 3

I had a watermelon on hand and decided to carve a “melon boat”, although I opted for the “melon basket” variation (easier to carry). I saw these a lot in the 70′s when I was a kid, haven’t seen one in a long while. You usually add cantaloupe and melon. It only takes 15-20 minutes and is all kinds of awesome. I served mine as desert with vodka.

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I live in New York and rarely go to see museums – it makes absolutely no sense. It’s like growing up in a brothel and never getting laid. At some point, you have to question the wisdom of it all. Well, I saw the Waterfalls last week and also made it to see the Murakami Exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum of Art. It is one of the more enjoyable exhibits I have ever seen in my life. Period. It closes on July 13th, 2008 so if you’re in the City or nearby, do yourself a favor and check it out.

Here’s the official blurb on the show – “The most comprehensive retrospective to date of the work of internationally acclaimed Japanese artist Takashi Murakami includes more than ninety works in various media that span the artist’s entire career, installed in more than 18,500 square feet of gallery space.

Born in Tokyo in 1962, Murakami is one of the most influential and acclaimed artists to have emerged from Asia in the late twentieth century, creating a wide-ranging body of work that consciously bridges fine art, design, animation, fashion, and popular culture. He received a Ph.D. from the prestigious Tokyo National University of Fine Arts and Music, where he was trained in the school of traditional Japanese painting known as Nihonga, a nineteenth-century mixture of Western and Eastern styles. However, the prevailing popularity of anime (animation) and manga (comic books) directed his interest toward the art of animation because, as he has said, “it was more representative of modern day Japanese life.” American popular culture in the form of animation, comics, and fashion are among the influences on his work, which includes painting, sculpture, installation, and animation, as well as a wide range of collectibles, multiples, and commercial products.”

But on to the eye candy…

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I heard a few songs by an Austin band named The Black Angels and was particularly fond of their single “Black Grease”. They remind me of The Velvet Underground or Brian Jonestown Massacre. Psychedelic rock – full tilt boogie. If you haven’t seen it, check out the video for “Black Grease”:

I managed to get a ticket to their sold out show at Southpaw this past weekend, a venue a few blocks from my apartment in Park Slope – Brooklyn. First, Southpaw is a great place to see a show – small room, big bar, great sound. Second, The Black Angels put on one helluva show. The songs are long and kinda trippy, it’s easy to get lost in the wall of sound. Towards the end of the gig, I think it may have been during the second encore, the lead singer Alex Maas wandered to the side of the stage. Facing the wall, he sang for the next 15 minutes. Say what you will, but brother was into it. They are playing at the All Points West Festival this summer – really looking forward to hearing them on a festival stage. Should be a real kick in the head.

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The “New York City Waterfalls” exhibit opened this morning. For those of you who aren’t in the know, an artists named Olafur Eliasson was able to raise $15.5 million and secure Mayor Bloomberg’s help to install 4 waterfalls across the New York Harbor. I like the look of the one directly under the Brooklyn Bridge.

This installation is on the scale of “The Gates” by Christo and Jeanne-Claude that filled Central Park with saffron-colored fabric panels back in 2005. I wasn’t that excited to see “The Gates”, but was taken aback by the beauty and scale when I did make the trip. It was really extraordinary. Make sure you don’t miss this one…

Kudos to Mayor Bloomberg who helped the artists navigate the NYC bureaucracy to get over 30 separate permits to make this a reality. Well played sir.

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As our good and jerky friend (compadre?) Jeff related earlier this morning, this past weekend was the much anticipated Shelter Island 10K. The Dukes fielded a 12 person squad, a dozen Dukes if you will, for a picture perfect day on Shelter island. The course was beautiful and the weather was hot. Damn hot. 80 degrees and blazing-evening-sun-holy-sheet-I-wish-I-had-ice-packed-shorts-on hot.

No course records or PRs were set that I’m aware of, but everyone did managed to finish the race strongly amid much DOFB howling. Special congrats go out to Paolo, Lydia, Deirdre, Amy, PT & NG for completing their first race under the DOFB flag and earning their stripes (shirts). Righteous work folks!

Typical DOFB pre-race stretching routine. Works best with some horrible disco blaring to, you know, get Paolo pumped.
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Ivan showing strong form and gettin’ it done at the finish
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Juanito bringing it home
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GJ showing pluck at the end.
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The White Witch cranking towards cold water and a mojito
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PT making it look..well…something.
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NG & Amy showing that the Dukes will get it done no matter what. Neither rain, nor snow, nor pregnancy, nor a complete lack of training can quell our ferocious spirit. I salute thee.
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Big Lydz & Sam cruising home. There is no way on earth Lydia ever considered, a year or two back, that this is what she would be doing one beautiful June afternoon in the year 20 Ot 8. Seriously nice work to you both.
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One critically overheating Paolo as he nears the finish….huge showing P.
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Post-race Deirdre….who the hell knew she was so damn speedy?!?!?
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Much happier post-race Paolo grin. Thank god – I was afraid he was going to cross the finish and slug me for getting him into this sweaty mess.
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Lydz and staff photog Alixa…thanks for snapping all the great shots lady!
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DOFB Team shot for the Shelter island Reporter. Graham has a standing bet with an old friend and fellow islander about who can get in the reporter first (and not in the police blotter!). If this makes the paper, he wins. Hands Down. Seems like the prize should be paid in shellfish – no?
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A second group shot where we attempt to show our missing compatriot Jeff just how much we value and understand his life decisions.
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And, finally, expressing our club dominance by throwing the DOFB up right in the middle of the finish area. I’d say the “O” could use some work, but let’s see Los Compadres try something this daring. Hmmmm? Hmmmmmm?
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Dukes celebrate post race with a White Party involving amazing Fried Chicken from Commander Cody’s, outrageously good Margaritas & Mojitos and a fantastically prepped outdoor space….sweeeeeeeeet.
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Eating outdoors under a flawless night sky was the perfect way to end an amazing day ’cause, you know, that’s how we do.
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White lights in the trees…ladies in white on the lawn; very naaaace.
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The White Witch & PT. The post-race festivities were all her idea and everyone helped realize the vision. She rocks.
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P-funk livin’ the smoooove.
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As you can see, a shite time was had by all. Thanks again to the the great folks of Shelter Island for their amazing support over the length of the course. Especially those dudes with the hose at the top of horse hill…you really saved my butt from imminent heat-induced bootage. And to Graham for hosting us ne’erdowells and Fayth a& everyone else involved in making the post-race party such a fantastic time.

And, especially, to Jeff, for not ruining our fun by attending this year’s event.

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As my exile from New York City continues, I have missed a few crucuial events that DOFB has sponsored over the past few weeks. This past weekend I missed the Shelter Island 10K, Summer Solstice and DOFB member Birch’s birthday, the trifecta of DOFB events. I thought I had a great excuse for missing the weekend, I am currently in Paris on business and could not attend. I thought it sounded good.

Well……..I think the reaction to my decision can best be expressed below:

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I don’t know about you, but I’m a huge fan of taxidermy. I lived in Paris for a while and would regularly visit a legendary store named Deyrolle. Not only did they have every butterfly and bug imaginable, but also every bird and animal. And I’m talking about the full gamut – think Noah’s Ark – they even had a Golden Retriever if memory serves correct. If you are ever in Paris, this is an absolute must.

Deyrolle is right next to Saint Chappelle, known as the most beautiful room in the world. Just take a look – this is one of the most special places I’ve ever been.

I was also sent a link yesterday to Custom Creature Taxidermy, a shop that does “fantasy mounts”. I’m not sure what to say abut this so I’ll just show a few pictures. Wait, just one gag, “that squirrel is nuts!”

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Well, the DOFB more than survived it’s trip to Laconia for Bike Week ’08. In fact, a damn fine time was had by all on a ride that was, as any proper bike adventure should be, filled with hilarity, calamities averted and plenty of cold suds. I’ll let the pictures do most of the talking, but first I’d just like to say a word or 100 about one particularly memorable event.

On the ride up I experienced one of those moments that every rider dreads, the kind of thing that puts a not in your gut just thinking about. I blew a front tire on the Merritt traveling at highway speed in failing light. Blowing a front shoe is one of those things you hear about happening but is by no means a regular occurrence. In fact, most of the folks I know who’ve been riding for a lifetime have never had their number come up. Let me tell you something – it is not a good time.

The tire went flat in about 10-15 seconds. Not with a bang or a pop…just all of the sudden the handling characteristics changed. At first subtly enough to wonder if it was odd pavement. And then, very quickly, the front forks started traveling about a foot in either direction, yanking the steering back, serpentining the bike and generally making it impossible to control. Mind you 75% of the braking on most bikes, and prob 90% on mine, is done with the front brake. So it was a pretty impossible situation to get the bike to rapidly slow while keeping it upright.

With mountains of luck, and a formation of Dukes behind me making sure I wasn’t struck by an oncoming car, I managed to keep the shiny side up and get to the shoulder. Where I no doubt would have remained if it weren’t for the formidable aid and patience of Sergeant Raymond LaPlante of the Orange PD. Ray pulled up on his police Harley to see what was doing and, over the course of the next 12 hours, not only helped us sort out local accommodations, sustenance/beverages and a great mechanic, but actually borrowed a trailer and, (on his morning off with his young son in tow!), pulled the wounded SuperBad from where I’d stashed her in the woods overnight to the shop for an early am fix that got us back on the road.

Ray’s effort not only saved our trip from ruin, it reminded all of us a bit about what’s so special about riding. That it’s appreciably different than traveling the roads in a steel cage. There’s a different connectedness to the experience of moving from place to place. You don’t always know what might happen (especially on an old bike), but that the journey in and of itself is adventure. And, more than anything else, the camaraderie of two wheels and that bikers look after one another.

So a hearty DOFB thanks and toast to Ray LaPlante. We sent many a cold beer to it’s maker this past weekend and damn it all if most of mine weren’t dedicated to his awesomeocity. Keep the rubber side down and looking forward to when we get to ride together!

The SuperBad being seen to by Art Handleman @ Valley Motorsports in Ansonia, CT. If you’re ever in a pinch with your machine in CT – Art’s the man to get you back on the road.
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Turns out – I had a “rust-based failure”. On older bikes that have seen weather at one point or another, the insides of the rims can get to rusting. Small metal filings eventually peel off and will, inevitably, roughly have their way with your tube. Here’s the shop tech de-rustifying the inside of my front rim.

To recap = small metal filings + rubber innertube + highway speed = bad. Put it on your list of shit to think about if you have a late model ride.
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Sergeant Ray and his awesome little boy Nathan flying the DOFB flag after dropping our side-show off at the shop. Nathan’s already bewitched by bikes and shows great promise. Rumor has it Ray may be heading up to NH this weekend as well. Boundless thanks to both of them for spending their morning sorting us out – couldn’t have done it without you fellahs. Have an awesome ride to the granite state Ray!
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Th big man…..Emperor of the Rage Hut, host for this Bike Week jaunt and head of the New Hampshire DOFB Chapter. Not a finer NH specimen to be found.
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Ride on Winni to the Wiers for a peek around, some grub and one (read:10) Margarita.
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Graham lends a helping hand to a parched Hombre
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2300 CC Triumph Rocket Sled….daaaaamn.
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Sweet trike art – Rowwwrrrrrr.
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The next day the Big Man took us on an epic ride up over the Sandwich Notch road, around through Waterville Valley and back over the Kank. Being dirt, recently graded and pretty steep in many places, The Notch road was especially challenging for some of the bikes. Fritz on the Yammie FJR1300 gets the hero’s salute for muscling that beast all the way through safely. That bike was built for smooth speed and she was more than a little ornery about the conditions. He rodeoed it though and, in exchange, was treated to a singular adventure through pristine NH back country. Nice work man.
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Big and mean never goes out of style in NH.
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DOFB, now with more Back Road Action!
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Juanito going native. The arm stripes perhaps suggest some sort of vestment. A man of the cloth? A country bishop perhaps?

Subsequently gathered evidence would seem to contravene this hypothesis.
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Graham loves it.
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Like Rodin’s thinker, this Duke too is made of granite. NH Chapter member (and lead carpenter) Whitney on his KLR. The KLR really is a perfect match for this guy and his natural surroundings.
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Top of the Kank….one of the best roads for riding on the East Coast and my personal favorite. The Dukes relay team will also be running the Kank this coming fall in the “Reach the Beach” 200+ mile relay. A painful reality not lost on those of us who’ll be on the squad as we climbed upward for 13 miles….
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Stop in Chocorua to visit the DOFB patron Saint – Ghee. Here’s she’s getting her annual ride around the block on the back of the Guzzer.
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Fritz on the Yammie. Can you believe he just took that 600lb beast over 20+ miles of mushy dirt logging roads?!?
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Heading back into the Wiers we start to get a taste of the action.
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Bike traffic for miles.
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Some local fauna met in traffic. The lady on the front claimed to have been arrested at last year’s bike week for mistakenly slugging a cop. Oops. Things can get a little dicey at Bike Week but come on ladies. These two sisters seemed a wee interested in a certain debonair Duke.
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This guy – can you believe it? No accounting for taste I suppose…
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Sunset at the rage Hut
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That pretty much concludes our trip. There were some other adventures had…a visit to the Franklin Girls’ natural lair, a few ‘old bike’ struggles with the Guzzi, electrical gremlins with the Triumph and many many coordinated high speed drifts to the curb of the highway for one dangling plate/about to be lost luggage/ atomic wedgie or another. But you’ll get that on these rolling thunder jobs.

Next year we’ll hope to have a bit more time and get a little more submersion into the epicenter of Bike Week. But I know I wouldn’t trade the ride we had on Saturday for much of anything – pure magic.

Thanks to everyone who was involved in making it happen this year…Ray and Chris especially!

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Just ran across this footage of trucks dealing with the silt during the 2007 Baja 1000. It’s the best video I’ve seen that illustrates the insanity of those sections. Also has some crashes that make a brother say “awoooooogah” – enjoy!

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We’re fresh back from the Laconia Motorcycle Rally in New Hampshire. After a weekend of riding, wrenching and communing with Gilford Girls, one’s thoughts naturally revolve around the simpler things in life. I don’t know about you, but I love a nice fire. I have fond memories of a friend’s farm in Virginia where we’d spend the day clearing dead wood with a tractor and building enormous bonfires. Today, I’m lucky enough to have a house in the country where I can stack a few cords of wood and indulge my inner pyromaniac. I ran across a great article on 9 ways to start a fire without using matches. They put it best “There is a primal link between man and fire. Every man should know how to start one. A manly man knows how to start one without matches”.

Learn for yourself!

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The New York chapter of the Dukes of Flatbush are hitting the road to attend the Laconia Motorcycle Rally and meet up with the New Hampshire chapter. A mostly annual event for the Dukes, we pack as many people (and dogs) into a small cabin on Lake Winnipesaukee aptly named the “Rage Hut”. Over the years, we’ve managed to sink a boat and cracked supporting beams in the cabin, but it’s all in the name of a good time.

One thing you’ll learn about the Dukes of Flatbush is that we don’t trailer bikes to motorcycle rallies. We ride to them. I swear we’ve seen someone take a bike off a trailer just outside of town and throw dirt on it to give the impression of a long ride. For shame! To that individual all we can say is you better grow a pair.

I’m riding my 1974 Moto Guzzi Eldorado Police bike up this year. I’ve never ridden it on a long trip before so I put a few hundred miles on it this past weekend. It was a real hoss on the highway – very comfortable riding position, plenty of juice, bright lights. I did manage to lose my license plate and a foot peg so I’m going over the entire bike tonight to ensure all of the nuts and bolts are securely fastened. Not looking for a yard sale across the 1,000 or so miles we’ll ride.

One thing the Motto Guzzi has been lacking is proper saddle bags. I just managed to get this pair of vintage police bags off of eBay. I cannot wait to put them on.

We’ll post a round-up after the big event, make sure to take pics of all of the great bikes and people we meet along the way. New Hampshire here we come!

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Fayth and I dove with Reefseekers at this time last year off the island of Flores in Indonesia. It’s a great outfit and the woman Kath who runs the show is an amazing instructor, an excellent guide to the undersea wonders of Komodo Park & an all around inspiration to those of us who appreciate striking out and carving an existence WAY off the beaten path.

She and a small group of divers have gone lost in Komodo. Whether you believe in the power of positive thoughts or not, please send a good one their way and hope for the speedy and safe return of all on the dive.

Thank you,
-b

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I just got back from a 1,230 mile off-road motorcycle trip from Ensenada to Cabo San Lucas. It was a training run to prepare for the Baja 1000. If you’re new, start at the beginning. Otherwise, here’s part six of the story…

DAY 6

If you have been reading this story up ’til now, you may have the sense that I have a lot of off-road motorcycle experience. I have logged tens of thousands of highway miles, but only ridden a few hundred off-road prior to this trip. Lacking the requisite skills, I’d force myself through sections of the course which really took a physical toll. Here’s where things stood:

I found out when I got back to the States that I was riding with a separated shoulder, torn Labrum and bruised collarbone – injuries from a ride I had taken weeks earlier in Utah. I had trouble opening and closing my swollen hands – they were most comfortable in a clawlike position, a result of holding onto grips all day long. It would take about 15 minutes of exercise in the morning to get to the point where they were useful.

I had developed large blisters on my palms as well as a gash on my right butt cheek that had been rubbed completely raw. I did my best with Vaseline, Neosporin and moleskin to repair the damage. I suffered from any number of bruises and pains, randomly distributed across my 36 year old frame. In short, I am seriously banged up.

Day 6 was just shy of 300 miles, the longest day of the trip. I’d consider 300 miles to be a good day on highways so when you think about doing it in Baja, in those conditions, it’s really something. I begun the day with trepidation, but had managed 800 miles and felt reasonably prepared for the day ahead.

The first section was indescribably beautiful. We followed dirt roads that hugged a mountain for 30 miles. The views were incredible.

Amidst the beauty is a great deal of danger. This particular road had incredibly sharp turns and drop-offs of hundreds of feet. I rode this section very slowly and carefully. I couldn’t help thinking about the Baja 1000 race as this had been a section of the 2007 course. I hard trouble imagining doing it at speed, at night, amongst cars – it really gave me pause.

This road eventually lead to a small town, lined with pristine cobblestone streets and home of the Mission de San Francisco Javier Vigge Bigundo. It was founded in 1699 and the structure was built from 1744 to 1758. On December 2nd each year, thousands of pilgrims flock from all over Mexico to this special place.

The next 70 miles were fast and fun. A sandy road with gravel here and there, big straightaways and wide sweeping turns. This section had tons of water crossings which helped cool you down and added variety. We were criss-crossing rancher’s land so every now and then you’d make it past a home where cattle gathered for water and food. As soon as you saw any sign of civilization, you immediately downshift and stand – looking for cows or donkeys which would invariably be around the next corner.

We would ride staggered in groups so it wasn’t uncommon to be riding alone for an hour or more – you find a natural cadence and really get into it. We’d stop every 30 miles or so to catch up, check oil, get a drink of water.

We then made it to the highway where we met our supply truck. We fueled the bikes and grabbed a bite to eat. In no time, we were back on the road, riding 60 miles of boring blacktop. We then cut off the highway around 170 miles into the day. We ran across some riders from the Malcom Smith group who told us to be very careful on the section ahead. It was Sunday and a favorite local pastime is boozing and taking 4×4′s out in the desert. Be very alert. Look out for cars.

This section lasted around 40 miles and was incredibly brutal. The road was filled with good sized rocks and portions were completely devoid of sand, so you’d come over a hill and be riding across what amounted to chewed up concrete. It was also mentally tough because you wouldn’t see any other riders – I felt very isolated, facing an endless desert ahead.

I was doing my best to keep a decent pace, probably riding around 25-30mph when I struck a small boulder. In a millisecond, I was catapulted off the road, narrowly passing between two large boulders – this is all happening very fast. Another boulder was directly in my path so I cut the steering hard left to get back on the road. The only problem was a large cactus directly in my path. I hit it dead on, causing it to explode into a million barbs. Many found purchase in my right arm. In another millisecond, I was back on the road and stopped. To be completely honest – I was incredibly freaked out at this point. I had come really close to eating it in the middle of the desert, alone and under a hundred degree sun. I rested for a minute or two and thought the best thing was not to overthink what had happened, but to immediately keep going. I desperately wanted to get through this section as it was getting the better of me.

I got the bike up into 3rd gear and everything felt wrong. It seemed like things weren’t clicking. I shifted into second and didn’t feel any better. I tried first, more of the same. I felt that I was starting to lose it, so I sped up into third and decided to grin and bear it. When I caught up with my group about 10 miles later, they pointed out that I had a flat. I had been riding on my rim. In my adrenalin-fueled freak out, I hadn’t even noticed.

We swapped my tire and another for our guide, George. They also helped pull the cactus spines out of my right arm. At this point, I have ridden about 200 miles and am really starting to feel it. We have 100 miles left and are almost to the silt, an infamous section of Baja. Oh dear god.

We hit the silt about 20 miles later. Silt has the consistency of talcum powder – it is incredibly fine. If you hit a patch of silt at speed, your bike will immediately slow down, likely throwing you from your mount. You need to approach with caution and once you are in it, keep the bike in 2nd gear and hammer the throttle. You won’t be able to see anything as you are encased in a fine mist – you really just point the bike in a direction of your choosing and hope for the best. If that isn’t bad enough, these sections aren’t on level ground – they are on windy uphills and downhills. It is the devil himself.

I was pretty burnt out at this point and had a lot of difficulty. I dropped my bike at least 5 times. Picking up a bike over and over is very tiring, especially in this stuff. People say that every time you pick up a bike it adds 20 miles to your day. I’m not sure if that’s right, but I was completely exhausted. One of the guides, Pepe, helped me get the bike into the desert, off the silt – and we navigated a course around it. It was the only way I could get through.

I have now reached a point where I have gone far past my physical limits. I have to lay against the bike while I’m riding – I’m too tired to keep myself upright. It’s scary because you know you shouldn’t be riding, but there are really no options. Keep moving as fast as you can.

I’m riding along at 35mph and about to cross a wash, basically a dried out riverbed. As I’m coming down a small hill to cross it, I catch something out of my right eye in the periphery. It appears to be a truck and I’m going to hit it. I immediately locked both brakes, but you just slide in the sand – your speed doesn’t decrease fast enough. I made a decision at that point to bail from the bike. I simply jumped off. The bike went to the right and I ended up lying on the ground, looking straight ahead. I then saw the tires of a speeding black Cherokee jeep pass directly in front of my eyes, less than a foot away. That one second lasted forever.

I realized that I had come pretty close to cashing out, right then, right there. I knew there were other riders behind me so I crawled off the road to avoid getting hit. I pulled myself up onto a log and completely broke down. I was physically and emotionally gone. I have never felt this way before – there was nothing left inside me. I would never wish that feeling upon anyone.

A guide had been riding just behind me and saw the whole thing go down. He never even saw the truck until it blew by me as I laid in the road. The driver stopped – he was coming from a fishing camp just down the coast. He was as freaked out as I was. I couldn’t even speak to him. I couldn’t speak to anyone. I just sat there.

After 5 minutes, I drank a little water and took inventory. I had to ride at least 30 more off-road miles until we met the truck. We then had 30 miles of blacktop to La Paz. I had no choice, but to continue on. I got back on the bike and got it done. The only way I could get through it was to tell myself that I would never have to come back here and race the Baja 1000. At that moment – the thought of it was simply too much.

I didn’t drive fast, but I got it done. This picture was taken about 15 minutes after the near miss, when I met up with the group and where we recounted what had happened. I didn’t want to talk about it. I wanted to enjoy the view, listen to the waves, be far away. Pepe told the story. Thanks Pepe.

I made it to the truck. And then I rode the highway miles into town. I wasn’t going to put my bike on the truck. Baja may have won that day, but I would ride every single mile to Cabo – I would not let Baja beat me.

La Paz is a lovely town, but I’m far too exhausted to go on – this has been a long post and one that I have dreaded writing. I hope it doesn’t dissuade anyone from going down there and experiencing it for themselves. This could have happened anywhere. When it’s your time, it’s your time. And I may just be crazy enough to go down there next year and do that race. If I do and can get that done, it would be the greatest accomplishment of my life. I have no doubt.

Stay tuned for the final installment…

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Sorry for the long delay between posts but it was a big move to the new DOFB office location out here in Seattle. The office finally has wireless internet and this post is being written on the patio in Capitol Hill looking out over Seattle. I took some pictures last night so you can see the view from the new location and what I look out to every day.

Be back soon with some reports on first few runs around Seattle.

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The 2008 Shelter Island 10k is only a few weeks away – official start at 5:30PM on June 21st. If you have never been to Shelter Island, it’s located on the East End of Long Island, accessible by short ferry rides from Greenport (North Fork) or North Haven (South Fork). I highly recommend this run if you haven’t done it before. It’s an idyllic course past horse farms, coastline, golf courses, churches and the course is lined with locals holding cocktail parties on their lawns. A real hometown feel. We had 9 Dukes last year in the race, trying to get 15 this year. So come one, come all!

The Dukes at the 2007 Finish Line

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