“Who are those guys?”
K hadn’t seen “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.” So on Christmas Day, after a delicious late brunch of K&M-dreamed-up heuvos rancheros, modest gift-giving, a He Is Risen romp at the dogrun for Thurb, every day is present day for T-Bone, and for us we went light is right, as in an anytime Escape to New York plane ticket for K, the middle years Sam Beckett letters for me, and last and certainly not least, USB Fridge for M, good for one 8-ounce soda can (read: Diet Coke), designed in American West rustic, the surprise unanimous choice as gift of the season, what M fairly soon decided would be on its way to her Sarah Lawrence College office after the holiday break, sure to attract conversation and giggles and guffaws, and, “Ah, what a perfect husband you have who would think of such a gift,” because M loves her DC in midafternoon so I can live with the pleasure of knowing that she would be the first prof on her block to have one, although given the certain positive reaction, not for long.
Running for Your Life: Repetition Rant
“I’d run, but .¤.¤. it’s so boring.”
If I’ve heard that line once, I’ve heard it a thousand times. And don’t get me wrong, it’s a point of view I’m not unsympathetic to. In the spirit of the voices that come to me on the road, it’s one I claim as my own. Honestly, I don’t know if I didn’t have my DVT health scare in the mid-1970s, whether I’d be a runner today. Word to the wise: A blessing lies in all.
If I’ve heard that line once, I’ve heard it a thousand times. And don’t get me wrong, it’s a point of view I’m not unsympathetic to. In the spirit of the voices that come to me on the road, it’s one I claim as my own. Honestly, I don’t know if I didn’t have my DVT health scare in the mid-1970s, whether I’d be a runner today. Word to the wise: A blessing lies in all.
Running for Your Life: December Highs
As my wife M put it this week: garden trowel or snow shovel, what’s it going to be?
Almost three weeks into December, the fastest month of the year. In Canada, when I was a boy and a young man, it was the shortest month. In the US, it’s only amplified by the super-late Thanksgiving, with December days filling up with parties and family gatherings and charity events and food-buying and gift-selecting, never enough hours in the day so that about now, Dec. 20, it’s understandable that reasonable people begin to long for January, when time slows, days lengthen, and you can actually get some writing done!
Almost three weeks into December, the fastest month of the year. In Canada, when I was a boy and a young man, it was the shortest month. In the US, it’s only amplified by the super-late Thanksgiving, with December days filling up with parties and family gatherings and charity events and food-buying and gift-selecting, never enough hours in the day so that about now, Dec. 20, it’s understandable that reasonable people begin to long for January, when time slows, days lengthen, and you can actually get some writing done!
Running for Your Life: Road Home
In Washington, DC, Vincent, the store manager of the K Street U-Haul, doesn’t seem to tire telling renters not be alarmed in the event that the police around the Capitol Building stop you and ask for your documents and to check inside the truck.
Early Saturday morning (Dec. 10) I’m riding K’s bike to K Street to pick up the truck. I’m here to help move K's stuff back to Brooklyn. She’ll sift through the lot and take some of it to Los Angeles, where she is living now. The rest M and I will keep in Brooklyn.
Early Saturday morning (Dec. 10) I’m riding K’s bike to K Street to pick up the truck. I’m here to help move K's stuff back to Brooklyn. She’ll sift through the lot and take some of it to Los Angeles, where she is living now. The rest M and I will keep in Brooklyn.
Running for Your Life: Striking a Balance II
I dodged a bullet. Or at least that’s how it feels. Last Wednesday (Dec. 7) I was heartsick, certain that I’d set myself back in my training by a month, maybe longer. Today, though, I’m hopeful. Only three days off and I loped my way through a five-miler on Sunday. Barely feeling the muscle pull, tear in the upper thigh of my left leg, the bad one, the one inflicted with DVT, the one that swells up in the calf when I run because the vein valves are shot, the oxygen-rich blood feeds the muscles on a run, but they’re slow to return to the heart, causing swelling, no pain to speak of but an injury with this leg is especially concerning.
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