Reach. Grasp. Fart around.

Planning ahead simplifies your life, America has a physical-fitness crisis, and at the moment I’m not sure I’m buying either theory. Because it’s January, and I’m a little stressed out trying to plan which triathlons I’m going to register to race in half a year from now, before they fill up with all of these supposedly sedentary Americans.

Even the stuff I’ve already planned seems to be in flux. I’m signed up to race the Martian Marathon in Dearborn, Mich., April 10. I’ve actually had that one on the books since I registered in 2008 to race it in ’09 and then bailed to tour military hospitals with seven other cartoonists and the USO the same week. I rolled my entry to this year, and now could bail yet again if a whole different once-in-a-lifetime opportunity comes through. (Think sharks, man-eating sea lions and Frank Morris, since that’s what most people think of. If and once it pans out, I'll update you all with something that's actually accurate.)

I know I'll be racing and helping direct (in opposite order, so don't go looking for any victory poses) my hometown Hawk Island Triathlon June 6. That's set in stone. (In fact, sign up yourself -- quickly, since it will fill up -- and enjoy your exclusive Frazz- or Trizophrenia-themed swim cap. Kiefer and I team up to provide the official headgear.)

Also firm is the glorious Musselman in upstate New York July 10-11. The only question is whether I'll be racing the half-ironman on Sunday or doing the double, which adds the sprint on Saturday. Assuming I race the full-ironman-distance Rev3 in Cedar Point (the September race in the comic strip above; Ironman Wisconsin filled up in only a few minutes, simplifying that, at least), the double is perfect. But there's an outside chance of a different, also awesome, full-ironman opportunity, the Vineman, only a few weeks later that would open the door to do the insanely tough Maryland half-iron that I also gush about up top. Or the Big Shoulders open-water swim in Chicago, in case I have less time but a still-hefty taste for humiliation.

Firming up like Jell-O in the deep freeze is the gorgeous and highly desirable Luray Triathlon in mid-August in Virginia; and on the wish list for various reasons are races in Indiana, Boulder and even a bunch in (duh) Michigan.

And finally, firmest of all, a commitment to man the front half of the tandem and make sure Patty gets all the opportunity she needs for her own commitment to more riding this year, including a real live vacation with no numbers written on her husband and no finish line and a minimum of neurotic behavior.

It's a world of opportunity. More to the point, it's clear the world has plenty of opportunity to wag its collective finger at me any time I whine about not being able to keep up with myself. Cue Robert Browning: reach is supposed to exceed grasp. If that doesn't work, cue Vonnegut: "We are here on Earth to fart around."