I have never seen dogs bark that much while swimming.

Diving (snorkeling) in Mexico once, while swimming face down in some really big waves, watching the bottom of the ocean come at me and then away from me, I got instantly "seasick". I didn't expect what happened next as thousands of small and medium sized groupers absolutely surrounded me - looking for a free meal. I didn't know how to react - A little bit confused, a little panicky, grossed out and my tummy felt better all at the same time.
- but a memory i won't forget

>> ^Stormsinger:

>> ^Yogi:
>> ^Stormsinger:
Looks remarkably closely related to a homemade zipline. You know, like the one that snapped and infected that poor girl with flesh-eating bacteria?
I think I'll pass...rusty metal and standing water just isn't a good combination.

We used to not care about that kinda stuff. But then again my dads friend drowned while swimming in the old quarry...so who knows who's right?

I know...my friends and I didn't either. And there aren't as many of us as there used to be. In several cases, there's a direct causal relationship in that statement, too. It's only taken us 40-50 years to realize that we are indeed mortal.


I think it's sad...I recently bought a motorcycle and upon doing my homework I discovered that most fatalities now occur because of chest and spine trauma, not head trauma because of helmets. So I asked for my birthday to get a vest full of pads over the chest and stomach and a large back plate like a turtle shell. I bought this old motorcycle because I remember my dads old motorcycle, which I rode around with him at the age of 4 with no helmet at all. It's crazy to think about.

>> ^Yogi:

>> ^Stormsinger:
Looks remarkably closely related to a homemade zipline. You know, like the one that snapped and infected that poor girl with flesh-eating bacteria?
I think I'll pass...rusty metal and standing water just isn't a good combination.

We used to not care about that kinda stuff. But then again my dads friend drowned while swimming in the old quarry...so who knows who's right?


I know...my friends and I didn't either. And there aren't as many of us as there used to be. In several cases, there's a direct causal relationship in that statement, too. It's only taken us 40-50 years to realize that we are indeed mortal.

>> ^Stormsinger:

Looks remarkably closely related to a homemade zipline. You know, like the one that snapped and infected that poor girl with flesh-eating bacteria?
I think I'll pass...rusty metal and standing water just isn't a good combination.


We used to not care about that kinda stuff. But then again my dads friend drowned while swimming in the old quarry...so who knows who's right?

I've been avoiding this video because I figured, "Meh, so the crab tosses his shell - big deal, happens all the time in nature..."

Now that's it's at number 2, I watched it - I was in no way expecting the legs to come out - I thought it would just be the body piece - That was crazy and a little freaky - I hate spiders - If I ever came face to face with one of those while swimming, (not that I would) - I would panic and swallow my tongue under water...

I once put a jellyfish down my shorts while swimming... Not the tender lover I expected.

Ok, listen, I may have eaten too much chili and let one rip while swimming in the lake, but I never thought anyone was filming it. I guess I owe someone a camcorder.

*eia
If your are grinning while swimming in piss, you're not a bright button.

I realize this is long, but here is the Sports illustrated article on these guys...................

Strongest Dad in the World [From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly]

I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay fortheir text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots. But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck. Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars--all in the same day.

Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life.

This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was
strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs. "He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life;'' Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. "Put him in an institution.''

But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. "No way,'' Dick says he was told. "There's nothing going on in his brain.'' "Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain.

Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? "Go Bruins!'' And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, "Dad, I want to do that.''

Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described "porker'' who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried. "Then it was me who was handicapped,'' Dick says. "I was sore for two weeks.''

That day changed Rick's life. "Dad,'' he typed, "when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!'' And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon. "No way,'' Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year. Then somebody said, "Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?''

How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried.
Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you think?

Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? "No way,'' he says. Dick does it purely for "the awesome feeling'' he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.

This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston
Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992--only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.

"No question about it,'' Rick types. "My dad is the Father of the Century.'' And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries was 95% clogged. "If you hadn't been in such great shape,'' one doctor told him, "you probably would've died 15 years ago.''

So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life. Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father's Day. That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy. "The thing I'd most like,'' Rick types, "is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once.''