Luke: Lost 1 Groove - Please call Stella if found.

One of my biggest concerns with coming on board with Groucho as a blogger was that I didn’t want to be the lame one. Which is reeeeeeally easy when you’re surrounded by this much awesome. I mean, have you seen these people and what they’re up to? Cripes. Walking down the hallways of Groucho HQ (uh, metaphorically) is like walking into the Hall of Justice during a Super Friends meeting. “Oh hey Superman. Did you get my text?” “Wonder Woman, you know when you’re making out with Aquaman in the backseat of your invisible plane, we can see you, right?”

And I’m like Jan and Jace’s little blue pet monkey, Gleek. With my only super power being to walk over to get the damn key to unlock the cage. Again.

So there’s some pressure - even if it’s only pressure I’m putting on myself - to bring it, and when you do bring it, to kill it.

Erin and Carly were talking on Twitter (are you following them on Twitter yet? And Groucho? And Bikerly? Do it! Do it now!) a month or so ago about how they still love their paper day planners despite having their phones grafted to their hands. Which reminded me that I needed to pick up a 2011 planner. And in previous years, as soon as I’ve gotten my planner I’ve started shaping my year: The day I’m leaving for New Zealand...marathon day and the 16 weeks prior...Scarlett Johansson’s birthday...you know, the important stuff.

So I flipped open my 2011 planner (mmm...it’s still got that new year smell) and…uh…um…

There’s nothing.

Sure, there’s some events that I’d like to do - finally slay my Grendle-like demon and run a marathon that I’m satisfied with; a century ride or two; celebrate Scarlett Johannson’s birthday – but for the first time in a long time there’s not an overarching “I’m doing _____” looming over the horizon. Don’t get me wrong: It’s going to be a great year. After a tough couple of years, I’m back to me again, and it’s shaping up to be the happiest that I’ve been in a very long time (Carl Spackler voice) “So I got that goin’ for me, which is nice.”

But I’m lacking the epic - in the mostly-overused-sense of the word - that gives me something to write about in the family Christmas letter (it’s done as a newspaper and last year’s “article” told of my first marathon via the lyrics of Scotland’s most famous twin brothers who are also in a pop band - “And I would run 500 miles/ And I would run 500 more/ Just to be the man who ran a marathon in under 4:00/ Da da dahhhh.” How we keep getting overlooked for the Pulitzer, I’ll never understand...I’ll also never understand how the Proclaimer’s have a “Greatest Hits” album but that’s another story).

And I need that underlying challenge, because otherwise it’s too easy to give myself an out. Somewhere over the past decade I lost the ability to push for the sake of pushing, which is why the pile of bikes and the much larger pile of running shoes have gone unused for close to a month (A month!). So it’s amazing seeing Erin check-in at yoga every day. Bikerly’s daily running haiku. The other twitterati up before dawn or late at night putting in their miles in the dark or the cold or the heat (lucky jerks…) as I chose an extra hour of sleep, the comfort of a heated car, a few more slices from the Hillshire Farms “Yard o’Beef.” Y’all are amazing.

Like Randy Moss, I play when I wanna play. And lately…I just haven’t. (And if I’m being honest, I’m also a little scared to get back out there and see how far I’ve fallen, shuffling through that first run back).

It’ll come back of course. Once I pick an event and a goal and make a plan for getting there, Stella will get her groove back (so to speak) and a color coded spreadsheet will again get my life back to what I consider normal. 5 a.m. alarms. 3 showers a day. Stink lines wafting off of Mt. Dirtylaundry with that special frozen sweat smell.

Now to pick an event…