Making space. Removing clutter. They’re often synonymous with seeking a happy life. Why? Because clearing away things that we don’t need opens up space for the things that make us happiest. Time that doesn’t feel rushed. Relationships that feel truly nurtured. Awareness of little moments that are fuller than we might realize.

And more bikes.

Wait – isn’t this about having *less* stuff? Sort of. After one bout of spring cleaning is done - after the excess has been removed - there’s space. Maybe a cupboard becomes neat after its contents are pared then re-organized. Not necessarily empty. Maybe a schedule change reveals a trip with less traffic, resulting in more time for you at home. It could be the chance you had yearned for - to sit still, read, knit, cook… or whatever makes you happy. Space. If you’re intentional, you can fill it with what you choose.

Biking makes me happy. So, when conditions are favorable, I ride my bike. Sometimes for fun, and sometimes for business; often the two merge. Mobility is about getting from here to there; when you get right down to it, being human does not mandate a car. I’ve replaced some car trips with bike trips – and this is part of my own spring cleaning. I’ve reduced my costs, increased my time out in the air, reduced my environmental impact, and found more time for exercise. How do you find time to train for Ironman? By going to work and the grocery store, I guess.

So when I saw a sign at work for a bike for sale, I jumped at the opportunity. Just the kind of bike I was looking for, for those “urban” trips I’m trying to increase.

What gives you energy? What makes you feel truly good? Look for space for it. Consider making your investments there. (Heck, maybe it’s driving – I won’t disparage that).

How do you nurture the relationships that matter most to you? Spring cleaning is freshening them up – dropping useless baggage through forgiveness, and finding richness through gratitude. Opening up a little more space to be nice.

My fiancee likes to bike, too. How do we have time to train for Ironman? By taking trips to the countryside, hanging out at the lake, having meals together, spending time with our friends. By loving each other, I guess.

Whenever I really looked at any given area of my house, there was something that could be edited. Something that wasn’t necessary but was taking up space. So on to the pile it went. At least the pile was out of sight. I got used to it.

Last weekend the flood gates opened. Thank goodness the sun came out Saturday, because I was ready to part with a winter’s worth of excess. Even better for business: the yard-salers had a palpable pent-up urge to get out and find their treasures. This winter has everyone antsy for spring. I advertised a 7:00 am start time, and I put out my signs at 6:30 – but the first guests arrived by 6:15. A steady stream of cars and vans cruised in until I took the signs down at 3:00 in the afternoon, while the pile of stuff dwindled away.

The sale was a fundraiser for Team In Training – we didn’t list prices but asked guests to make donations. Some who came for rock-bottom yard sale pricing got what they needed. Others upped their price a bit in the spirit of the fundraiser. Still others left empty-handed, but donated anyway. We ended the day with nearly $600. The event benefited everyone.

Our neighbor contributed some items for us to sell on her behalf, in exchange for hot coffee and oatmeal. Halfway through the day I went inside and put on sunscreen for the first time this year (apart from Disney World). Yes, the summer will be here soon.

Spring’s a time for growth and rebirth. If you’re going to plant seeds, you’d better prepare a space for them to grow. If you’re going to have a party, you’ve got to clean off the countertops and tables to fill ‘em with goodies.

I’m a proponent of simplifying. Habitually, I try to buy less; take in less to net less stuff. Periodically, though, it’s refreshing to open the windows, put on grungy clothes, and dig in. Ruthless editing. Wouldn’t you know it, after the yard sale I went down the basement only to discover new places; I could walk around! I had become accustomed to the pile and hadn’t realized just how much it was taking.

Needless to say, the same holds true for all your habits. What you eat, how you spend your time, where you get your energy and how you spend it. But the loppers are yours to wield, and you might just find that you’re able to grow – and give more to others too – if you  do some serious spring cleaning. Good luck.

After four years in the making, Tri Therapy is in circulation. I can hold it in my hands, and I can hold out my hand to share it with others. Feedback is coming back that calls it motivating, touching, inspirational … and a fast read to boot.

Wouldn’t you know it, books don’t just show up on shelves and then fly off of them. Rather, I think about which shelves they’d complement, and see about putting them there. I think about which hands might enjoy holding them, and offer.

And as I devote hours of my weekends traveling, talking, meeting people, and signing books, I consider how it’s unfolding. How much of my “spare time” do I want to spend on this effort? How far will it go? That’s up to me. It’s entirely related to the amount of effort I want to put in. Isn’t that the American Dream?

People don’t just suddenly become runners, shed pounds, get handed new jobs. When I encourage my teammates at Team In Training to keep working toward their fundraising goals, I know that many people are willing to donate - but they have to be asked. (Could you contribute today?) Some of these things are very hard, and some are relatively simple. But none of them just happen on their own.

No, we get out what we put in. We have to give ourselves a going-over and ask what our priorities are, and where we want to spend our time; then go after our goals.

Fortunately, by the same token I’m also able to define “success” on my own terms. Much like the endurance races that I’ve come to love, where throngs of participants move in the same direction, some faster than others, each seeking a different prize than the next. Each comes to the starting line full of their training, ambitions, and goals, and arrives at the finish line with their own personal result.

Would I like to sell a million copies? Sure I would. For some writers, this would be the ultimate goal, worth pursuing with all their time and heart. For me, writing about a life in balance, writing itself must also fit into the balance. For me, success is each person who’s able to reach something they might have thought impossible if not for the words I offer them. Of course I’d like to reach a million, but the project isn’t a failure if I don’t.

I’m not in Boston this morning – I have not yet qualified for that sacred marathon. Some day, perhaps I’ll have the right foundation and be ready to put in the training to get to Boston. But not right now. Do I consider my running career a failure? Absolutely not. This year I’ll go after this year’s goals, and we’ll see what comes next.

The fist outdoor ride of the year! A funny feeling to actually move as you make the pedals go around. Dione exclaimed “I’m coasting!” The bike feels so light and nimble – and even a little bit wobbly – detached from its solid metal trainer.

Sure, some people bundled up and went out earlier in March, but with gritty roads and icy spots, we didn’t see the value in getting outside just to get outside. Waiting until it got up to 50 allowed us to put on some winter gear without feeling like an Everest expedition. (I know, you southern-readers may be smirking – but after a long winter, I definitely rocked a T-shirt working outside yesterday).

We chose Madison’s great Capitol City Loop to kick things off. It’s a 21-mile loop through and around the city, beginning (if you go clockwise) with the University of Wisconsin, then traversing acres of farms and nature preserve. Much of the way was clear – but we encountered a few piles of snow and sheets of thick ice. Dione got a chance to try her Cyclocross skills – watch out Kristin!

Then Dione was unable to clip back in, because snow was packed into her cleats. Fortunately, we were prepared for the ride and I used a screwdriver to chip it out. And even more fortunately, the short delay caused us to be in the right place at the right time: around the next bend, a herd of a dozen deer bounded across a ridge line, running and kicking with elation. A loud call announced the arrival of Sandhill Cranes overhead. Geese pecking at the field below began a chorus of honking. We dismounted and watched the spectacle.

There’s nothing so important about a Friday afternoon ride that requires us to rush away.

Why do we ride, after all? Sure, to get in shape and “train.” But Ironman will be just one beautiful day in the fall – all the other days on the way there will have their beauty too. We ride to be outside, which puts us up-close with these kinds of scenes – the quiet kinds that aren’t available at the side of a freeway. We ride to be together, and although we can look at our stats and laugh while we eat to replenish the calories, it’s the bounding deer that will stay in our minds as we later recall this first spring ride.

Easter for me is inseparable from the arrival of spring. Whether you look at it as a metaphor, a symbol, or an entirely literal representation of hope and rebirth, it works. A ride like this one is a journey into the great outdoor sanctuary, joining other plants and creatures as they rise up out of the snow to rejoice.

Risen indeed – Hallelujah!

I’ve done a good job of refraining from entering anything with “kids” in the title, in spite of the temptation to go for a “W.”

So maybe it’s a little funny how seriously I’ve come to take the Madison Shamrock Shuffle over the years. But being a “short” race and situated in Mid-March, as we begin to train in earnest and scrub off the winter’s rust, this is a great chance to see what I’ve got.

As the great Jackie Arendt once advised me on a short spring race: “go out hard, and see if you can hang on.” This would cause crashing and burning on the long-course, but my 5k’s have never been the same.

I’m glad my multi-year PR streak has faded into the past as my running and triathlon career have developed a more sustainable, even keel. With the pressure of PR’ing dissipated, races became more fun again – and wouldn’t you know, I do still chalk up new bests from time to time. I suspect that with pressure and intensity come nerves, sleeplessness, altered eating or digestion, and other factors that make racing tougher than it already is. Racing for fun is showing up feeling healthy and ready – which also makes racing for fun racing at your best.

Nevertheless, each of the last 4 years I’ve brought home new 5k PR’s at the Shuffle along with solid standings even as the field grows, now lining up near the front of the pack of 2,300 and giving it all I’ve got. It features a 100-foot climb over Observatory Hill, followed by a long out-and-back opportunity to see all the runners.

After reaching nearly 80 degrees last year, today’s temperature flirted with 20. Some parts of the course seemed strangely quiet, maybe because the runners were a little grumpy with the cold. I had a hard time selecting race-clothes, since I expected to be warm with intensity, but only to a certain degree.

I went out hard and focused on the paradox between trying to feel “easy” while moving fast. Stand up straight, hold good form, breathe. I climbed with all my might, recalling the discomfort of my hill workouts – and knowing that on this day I only had to do it once, rather than six times in succession. I never felt that I would crack or fail, but I did run to the place where my body told me it simply was not fit to go any faster. And that’s where I stayed.

Much as I do it all for fun, I do tend to get pretty competitive – but today I got a break. By the turnaround, the guy in front of me had gone way in front, and the guy behind me – along with the first girl – were a ways back and falling a little further with each turn. If a duel had ensued, I may well have found an even best-er best, but I’m sort of relieved that it didn’t.

After the race, I made my way back up the course to the water station near mile 4, where Dione and Team In Training friends were helping make the race happen. Along the way, I shouted encouragement to the runners coming by, and jumped in to run alongside a few TNT teammates. Everyone had a great day, including a couple who did their longest runs ever. I notice I’ve just called the race “short.” I guess a race like this – and running overall – has something for everyone. Come as you are.

In spite of the cold, the sun came out and we gave it our best. If nothing else, we earned some corned beef and cabbage … Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Maybe I’d have gone running on my own, but maybe not. And if I did, what would I have learned about anyone else, or what great issues of the world would I have discussed? The fondness of this weekend’s run comes from sharing it with my teammates.

Before we hit the path, we had a nutrition clinic. Alum, fellow coach, and R.N. Mike talked to us about various nutrients and their roles in our day-to-day and running-lives. It’s not rocket science, but it’s not information that a person would likely figure out on their own. And if you’re planning to stick with a training program, you’ll be a lot better off if you know how to have the energy (and digestive comfort) to support it. Sure, nutrition advice is plastered all over the internet, but sorting through it – and having a useful forum for questions – makes the team setting particularly appealing.

It’s not always easy to head out on your own. Especially when it’s snowy, or cold, or raining, or dark. Saturday morning it was all of these – but we all knew the Team was waiting. We push ourselves a little harder, and we stand up a little tougher to life’s persistent excuses, when we’re in it together.

We are driven by other layers, too. There are people who get out of bed every morning to face much bigger challenges, which they did not choose, but which we choose to support. By showing up for our Teammates, and sticking with each other as the miles go by, we also stand in solidarity with the ones who receive the money we raise. When donors support us in our training-quest for an endurance challenge, we take on another layer of commitment: are we going to update our fundraising websites to say “well, it was sleeting, so I chickened out” – ?

Running, at its heart, is a simple endeavor. But coaches, mentors, and teammates foster the dialogue that reveals the abundant tips and tricks to make it feel simpler and more enjoyable. Then they encourage each other to come out for a run, and then spend the morning together. It’s good exercise, good company – and truly good work when backed by an important mission. Yes, it sure is good to be a part of a team.

Join us! Visit teamintraining.org/wi

On the pages I write, I constantly look for the positive. The days are getting much longer, fast. It’s getting easier to get up early again, and soon my observance of “Dano savings time” will end. The 6-month-till-Ironman mark is right around the corner. I swam in the afternoon and ran in the evening. My bikes are tuned up and hooked to the trainer, ready to be unleashed.

And dammit, I’m ready for spring.

Snow drops have peeked their green tops through the brown leaves where snow melts away from the south side of the house. The 10-day forecast calls for several days above freezing. So I put the first tap in one of my maple trees.

So far, the sap has only dripped out slowly. But it’s dripping. Soon I’ll be boiling it into syrup. Come on, spring!

That’s what I wrote after work Tuesday, over a cup of chai before Tuesday night run. No sooner had I closed the computer than the day’s 30-mph winds were joined by snowfall, and the run became hard-core. Under some of the snow was ice, the kind that’s super-slick from melting and re-freezing, and a few of us hit the ground. The icy snow pelted us in the eyes.

When I’m at home, trying to warm up, I’m pretty much done with winter. That’s what I was going to write about.

But I’ll tell you what – when it’s time to get out and train, I don’t mind it a bit. Why train but to intentionally add some discomfort for the sake of overcoming it? What better than to take an “ordinary” run and add some flavor and intensity from time to time? If it had been sunny, the run would have been nice, but inconsequential. But in the company of friends, we rolled with the blowing snow, made footprints, and conquered.

As my relationship with Dione developed, I wanted to become close to this trusted friend of hers. I wanted to break through to a relationship like only she had with him.

It’s been about 13 years since Dione met Virgil as a kitten, and a few months since he moved into my house with his companion, Lucy. They immediately embraced the new environment, with plenty of new places to explore. I, meanwhile, reacted with some quick adjustments of my own.

I think Virgil knew this was my house. Shortly after we began seeing each other every day, and I poured food into his bowl every day, he started to let me get much closer to him. I started to see the softer, kinder side of Virgil. And then one day, Virgil realized what he had been missing his whole life.

Virgil, ever the stoic and sometimes downright inconsolable, stretches three feet long, with his belly exposed and his head rubbing against the carpet. His growling and hissing is replaced with what looks much more like a smile; I’ve never seen him so happy and relaxed.

All he needed was a fire.

Here’s today’s thesis: first, when I said to Dione “what should I write about?” she replied “the kitties.” Second, things will come along from time to time that are total game-changers. Things that you’ve never experienced and don’t expect, that are absolutely heavenly. My first yoga class and first triathlon come to mind as an example; other examples seem to originate with vacations or other things I went out on a limb to try. What comes to your mind?

I guess it’s wise to never stop exploring. It’s wise to never give up on someone even if they  perceive the world differently than you. And it’s wise to take a break in front of the fire.

Lucy recommends enhancing your experience by the fire with a good book.

As I do on many days, I left work by the staircase to begin my walk home. In the winter, with water and grit, they’re more slippery than other times of the year. So I held the railing, minded my footing, and went on my way home. (Not what you expected to read?)

In the final days leading up to a big race, I tend to get nervous about a lot of things. What if I fall down the stairs? I’ll take the elevator. What if something happens on the bike? I’ll spin on the trainer. What if I trip on my run? I’d better skip every workout altogether! Have you had this kind of conversation?

The truth is, the only time I’ve fallen on the DOT stairs is the day I stopped with the brilliant idea of doing calf-raises, with wet shoes. There’s still coffee on the wall. All the other trips up and down have been seamless, just like most of my bike rides and runs.

What came to mind as I descended the stairs yesterday was just how easy it is to generalize outcomes, based on outlying or fictitious data points. I’m a fan of identifying and managing risks, but I’m challenged like many people to avoid what is sometimes known as “fortune-telling” (see Dr. David Burns’ The Feeling Good Handbook, Plume, 1999). Without a big A-race imminently approaching, I saw the stairway for what it was, rather than for all the extra layers that race-worry can put on my mind. I’ll try to remember that next September.

It’s a liberating exercise in gratitude to look for things that go well in life and call them out, and it’s a good reminder that many of life’s frustrating situations are indeed the exception, not the norm. That driver stopped and waved me across the street. My knee doesn’t hurt on this run. People are really getting along right now. And this light is ALWAYS GREEN.

Two great photos by Annika Swenson, Driftless Living Photography

I’m elated to bring this project to what I proudly consider “finished” – and I want to share it. If I waited for it to be entirely perfect, it would sit on my desk for another four years. But this whole project isn’t about perfection anyway.

This is certainly not the end of the journey. As friends and strangers read it, I hope that some of its words will resonate. I wrote this book hoping that it will inspire perspective and compassion. I believe that whether or not we know each other, or whether or not we pursue the same goals, we probably have more in common than we think.

New York Times best-seller? Heh, that would be pretty neat. (Buy a copy!) But to draw a smile, bring back a fond memory, give hope, encourage kindness, or inspire pair of new running shoes – those will make this project a “win.”