My friend, Pete Vandermey, died. And that makes me very sad. He was an extraordinary athlete - frequently kicking my butt on trail and road runs after undergoing chemotherapy the day before. He was also a great dog lover, and he and his wife, Jenna, helped to rescue the lazy pit bull known as Gwen the pitoodle, who they convinced me to adopt. I miss Pete and I ache for his love, Jenna, but I know that he lived life at full speed and enjoyed the crap out of it.
Here is a pic from the Tour de Goliad, years back, when Pete was kicking Pancreatic cancer's butt the first time around. He's the superstar on the far left. Have a good run, Pete.