Lots of them. Runner’s World, Triathlete, Inside Triathlete, Mountain Bike Action, Dirt Rag, and a couple of borrowed issues of Bicycling. I have this pathetic propensity for letting magazines pile up. I’ll start to read them, but won’t dare part with them until I’ve finished them from cover to cover. I prefer not to think of myself as just a triathlon newbie, but an understudy getting ready for my next role. Nah, while it’s true that I wouldn’t want to miss out on a single nugget of wisdom, I think the problem is genetic.
I grew up in a household full of magazines. Piles of them on the coffee table, in baskets by the coffee table, by the beds, and lets not even talk about the basement. Mom swears she’s getting better! Admittedly, I’m doing better too.
But the hard evidence is still there. Everywhere around my place. My newfound love for the sport of triathlon has made me neglect my other passion: golf, as well as eight issues of Golf for Women. There are the alumni magazines from my alma mater Syracuse. A few issues of Macworld. And a GQ issue with Tom Brady on the cover. (I had to have it.) For some reason, I can’t even part ways with a Westways.
The irony is I truly enjoy reading these magazines. Like anything else in life, too much of anything is usually a bad thing. I’m ready to give my magazine rack away to Goodwill. It’s become an enabler. So this weekend I began a serious “periodization” of my periodicals. I’m now down to 32 magazines.
I remember reading The Bridget Jones Diaries a few years ago and chuckling at the opening of every chapter, which began with the number of drinks consumed, weight gained, and cigarettes inhaled. From now on, every post will end with the number of magazines I have let pile up, until I feel 100% caught up. Magazines have always brought me comfort. I just don’t want them to bring me guilt. This could take a while. I’m also a clipper.
(Note: I haven't figured out to Italicize fonts yet with Blogger. Or the pubs above would be italicized.)