Spring cleaning, new beginnings

(Jane doing her own version of spring cleaning, circa 2004.)

A chapter in my life has closed and the ending is bittersweet.

Tarzan “graduated” from preschool last week.  Both he and Jane attended the same little one in our neighborhood. Altogether I spent four years of my life dropping off and picking up my children there.

“Mrs. Marge,” the preschool’s director, spoke at the closing celebration for Tarzan’s class. It was clear she loved the children by the way she choked back heartfelt tears, It was all I could do to not sob myself.

On one hand, I am counting the weeks (nine) until Tarzan begins kindergarten and we embark on our new journey. On the other, my caboose kid is growing up.

I always thought I would be thrilled when this time arrived, and yes, a part of me is. Likewise my heart wants to hold on to the sweetness of how he is now. I remember when my teenage nephews were Tarzan’s age and they were the same. Now they barely acknowledge me or any other adult in the room for that matter. (It’s nothing personal, just where they are now in life.) That’s how I know this innocent phase with Tarzan will disappear before I know it.

Such mixed emotions spurred me on to serial cleaning at Casa de Lucker this Memorial Day weekend.

I began with Tarzan’s room.

(Tarzan during the summer before he started preschool, circa 2009.)

For the longest time we used Tarzan’s diaper table to store his clothing, although he outgrew Pampers years ago. Finally, last week we bought him a proper dresser. As I loaded items into it I weeded out the old and what he’d outgrown for a give-away pile. (The diaper table is now sitting in our basement. That ship has sailed as well.)

From there I moved on to purging mine and Dude’s room, and then Jane’s room, getting rid of old clothes, shoes, toys, etc.

Finally, I hit the linen closet. My bedding and towels went from looking thrift-store mishmash to Martha Stewart picturesque. (I even looked up how to fold fitted sheets, according to how Martha Stewart because I saw her do it on Oprah years ago and I struggle to keep those neat.)

Last, I attacked the final frontier in my cleansing mission — my office.  I made some progress, shredding and tossing out unnecessary papers. I still have more to do. I am determined to finish it.

I also digitally decluttering my two computers, caught up on deadlines and correspondences, and created new filing folders to get myself on track.

The cru de gra will be getting all my children’s photos into albums.

Such things might seem trivial and unrelated to running, but that’s aren’t. They have weighed upon me lately during my workouts, along with not having a new fitness goal yet.

Now with my sights on the Pocatello Marathon, as Tarzan transitions to school, I feel my life and running becoming more streamlined, focused and efficient once again. I’m ready to embrace the new.

When I find myself getting stuck, afraid to move forward, I think of an analogy a friend of mine once shared with me about pooling water. If it sits still too long, without movement, it starts to become putrid. Sometimes the best thing we can do is to stir the pot, tap a fresh source and add to it.

The more I’m spring cleaning, the better I’m feeling. It’s showing in my running, too. I’m moving faster, more easily, and I’m keeping my weight down without as much effort. 

I’ll keep going and see where it leads. Perhaps changes aren’t so bad after all.

In honor of Tarzan, here’s a little nostalgia from the Beatles: You say good-bye, I say hello …


Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go!

Mileage today: 5; Mileage since Boston: 144.7


Veto for Pedro … and Pocatello

It’s official.

I pulled the trigger. Tonight I signed up to run the Pocatello Marathon in Pocatello, Idaho, Sept. 3.

“Napoleon Dynamite” country here I come!

Why, you might ask, did I choose Pocatello, and what happened to the Wineglass Marathon and the Run the Monument Marathon options?

I really loved the idea of the Wineglass Marathon but a trip out east again was cost-prohibitive.

As for Run the Monument race in Indy … I haven’t ruled it out completely yet. (It’s Nov. 5.)

However, when I read the description about Pocatello on its website, I thought — “Maybe I will. GOSH!!”
Plus, I’ve never been to the “Gem State.”

Yes, the Dude has watched “Napoleon Dynamite” more times than he has fingers and toes. As a result I know many of this lines, too, from this offbeat cultural phenomenon.

(Don’t get me wrong. It’s a funny movie, but I rarely watch anything twice. I’m usually too busy … ahem… watching over our two young children to be sitting in front of the TV.)

Anyway, I also picked Pocatello because it looks pretty; it’s a downhill course; and the race is driving distance from Denver, although it will be a long road trip.

When I checked online today it also wasn’t too expensive to fly to Boise from Denver. The Dude and Tarzan and Jane might road trip with me if I drive. We shall see …

I’m looking forward to it and I will draw up my new training plan this weekend.

Several years ago my sister-in-law and I ran the Bolder Boulder 10K race over Memorial Day weekend in matching “Veto for Pedro” T-shirts.

I don’t think I have mine anymore, but if she still does, I may have to borrow it for running in Pocatello. 

In honor of marathoning in Idaho here’s the boogie sequence from Napoleon Dynamite.

And remember, if you veto for Pedro, “all your wildest dreams will come true.”

“Just follow your heart. That’s what I do.”



Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go!

Magic nails

I have a confession to make.

I lied about one of my Boston stats but not on purpose. In one of my earlier wrap-ups about Boston I said I came away from the race with all my toenails unscathed, with all 10 toenails intact.

I was wrong!

First two of the nails on my left foot blackened during the first few days post-Boston. It was the second and fourth toes on my left foot, and surprisingly not the big toe. That’s the one most runners usually sacrifice to marathons.

About a week or so later, blisters beneath the nail beds of those two toes popped. The discoloration went away and I thought it was all said and done.

Wrong again.

Right before the Colfax Half Marathon I lost one of those toenails in the shower one morning. It just completely fell off on its own. It didn’t hurt it all. It was just gone.

A few days ago, the second toenail fell off. Again, it didn’t hurt it. One day it was simply not there anymore.

I wish the whole thing could be like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, but alas, no. My bare toes resembled ugly caterpillars rather than beautiful winged creatures after the stark transformation.

It surprised me because in almost 20 years of running and racing, I’d never lost toenails before this. In fact I hardly ever even get blackened toenails either. My feet are in miraculously good shape, considering the pounding I put them through regularly.

I was pretty bummed when I broke my lucky streak, however, especially since summer is around the corner. While I’m not a super girly-girl, I enjoy pedicures and treat myself to them during sandal weather.

Way back when, before I had children, I used to get my nails done all the time, too.

Looking down at my bare-skinned, phantom toenails I was beginning to lament my lost pedicures this season when the light bulb went off in my head.

If a manicurist could put fake tips on my fingernails, I thought, then why not be able to do it for my toenails, too?

I called a local salon today and asked about doing it. They said to come in for an appointment and they’d take a look. It would depend on the condition of the leftover skin and nail bed if it was possible.

A gal there took a look and said, yes.

Here’s a picture of my foot before the appointment.

Here’s the after photo with the acrylic overlay and voila, toenails again.

The splash of color helps.

What can I say? Other people get excited about technology from their Kindles and iPhones.

I’m just happy to not be a freak anymore without toenails. I’ll let you know how they hold up.

It cost me $14 to get my “magic nails” done. It was a basic pedicure and manicure where the manicurist only filed the nails, plus painted fingernails and toenails, and applied the acrylic to my bad toes. Once in awhile I get spa pedicures but honestly I don’t like when they scrub and file the callouses off my feet. Plus, as a runner I figure they serve a purpose.

There you have it — my confession about Boston and my toenails. In earlier posts I said Boston was like most races, except even more in just about every aspect.

That now includes toenails, too, my homage to Heartbreak Hill, if you will.

And yes, the sacrifice was worth it. ‘-)


Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go!

Mileage today: 5; Mileage since Boston: 128.7

“Rapture run”

Can you blog from heaven?

Set marathon PRs there?

Does ascension count as hillwork or speedwork? 

Surely salvation, at the very least, should earn you an automatic Boston qualifier, don’t you think?

OK, yes, I’m cracking jokes about the weekend’s failed Judgment Day prediction, but not to mock Harold Camping and his followers.

The world as it stands is hard enough even without more doom and gloom to add to our anxieties.

We could all use some humor in our everyday lives.

Those were some of the funny thoughts going through my head Saturday morning as I got ready to meet  the Distance Divas for our usual weekend long runs.

I ended up doing a 12-miler on “Judgement Day” with my friend Gayle. I felt OK later, after the run, but had some rough moments during it. 

One of my hamstrings was bothering me for a part of it, enough so that at that time I wouldn’t have minded if God chose to  “beam me up Scotty” and put me out of my misery.

I didn’t think it would happen when Camping said it would, but in the off chance it did it, at least I was wearing my running shoes for the ride.

Not that it would have mattered. Even if I was lucky enough to make the afterlife’s varsity squad my Sauconys would have been left behind for destruction.

That would have been a shame, too. I just bought a spiffy new pair.

All kidding aside, we are living in precarious times — high unemployment and wars across the world; tornados and flooding wherever we turn; the catastrophic earthquake in Japan not so long ago.

Devastation on the macro-level; so many heartaches I know of personally on the micro-levels — it’s all enough to make you think twice about where we are headed, regardless of false prophets and doomsday predications.

I admit — the timing of Camping’s end-of-the-world campaign freaked me out a bit when I first heard about him a few months ago.

I came across it on a Runner’s World blog of all unexpected places. This guy from the blog was racing on May 22 and he wrote to the race director for the event he was doing to ask if he could get a refund if the rapture indeed occurred May 21, 2011. 

In cheeky fashion the race director said there’d no refunds but he would gladly play REM’s End of the World for him and the other racers what ever transpired. 

At the time I shared all this with my friend Pam, with whom I planned to run the Boston Marathon. 

“Does this guy’s prediction for Judgment Day come before or after Boston?” she asked.

“After,” I answered, “almost a month exactly after Boston.” 

(Boston took place April 18, 2011.)

“Good,” she said, “As long as it comes after so we get to run Boston together, I’m fine with that.”

I also told Pam that trying to follow Camping’s logic and mathematics for deriving at Judgment Day, when I glanced at his website, made about as much sense to me as dividing my shoe size by pi, and then using the results to play the lottery.   

A few weeks after later, however, Japan and its citizens suffered that horrible earthquake.

While Japan’s tragedy didn’t convince me Camping was correct, it did stun me and make me think twice about this imperfect physical world in which we live and the fragility of it all.

I often find that when I’m out running it gives me time for pause. As my body moves on the outside, my mind and spirit often go deeper on the inside, into the crawl space of my soul to search for what’s lies beneath the surface.

Even entertaining the remote possibility that Camping could be right was similar, I imagine, to what people go through when they visit the doctor’s office and suddenly are told they only have a few months to live.

What would you do? Focus on dying or living? Give up or fight to savor those last precious moments?

For me, if there was anything good that came out of “impending doomsday” it was something like that. It made me think a lot about the value of my life, my husband and children, my family and friends, and how precious our time and gifts are.

For the last several weeks, for example, I’ve found myself less agitated with the minutia and more grateful for the simplicities that show up all the time.

Suddenly it didn’t matter that the Dude routinely left his dirty dishes and clothes out. He’s also the same human being who went back to a restaurant the other night to retrieve a favorite toy for our 5-year-old son, which he left behind. He did it to be a good and loving father, and I opened my heart to seeing this. 

It didn’t matter that I had deadlines and my children wanted to interrupt me to play. I found myself taking the time to be with them and enjoy it. Somehow all I needed to do, got done without me snapping at everyone.

I found myself stressing less, living more. That’s a good thing. I intend to keep it up. Just like running and exercising, this habit will take practice.

I believe in God and I think Judgment Day will come soon or later. I just don’t know when, and it doesn’t matter anyway because I don’t have any control over it. No one does except for God. 

I’m choosing to live my life with as much meaning, loving and gratitude as I can muster.
These are some of the other thoughts I had during my “rapture run” this last weekend and in the weeks leading up to it.

It reminds me of that line from Morgan Freeman’s character in the Shawshank Redemption, to “get busy living or get busy dying.”

While I’m here I will focus on living in such a way that when the end comes I won’t have to fear it.

And if blogging and PRs exist in heaven, hopefully I will let you know.


Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go.

Mileage today: 5; Mileage since Boston: 123.7


Boston in pictures, part II

A week or so ago I sent way for my official Boston Marathon photographs. Here’s some of what I ordered:

I like all my photographs, but my favorites are of the one of me with my hands in the air and the shot of me and Pam together after the race looking like happy baked potatoes in our foil blankets. (I’m also getting some copies of photographs that showed up under her Pam’s number, but haven’t received those yet.)

It was an awesome experience all round, which is one of the reasons it’s been difficult for me to set a new goal.

How do you top qualifying for and running the Boston Marathon?

So … I am putting this out there for your votes, too.

I am thinking of either signing up for the Run the Monument Marathon in Indianapolis (which happens at the beginning of November) or the Wineglass Marathon in New York state (early October). I’d like to try for a PR and run a marathon in a new state.

If you’ve got an opinion or other suggestions, please send them my way. I want to have fun with deciding this, and I’d love to hear from you.
1) Run the Monument Marathon in Indy? 
2) Wineglass Marathon in New York?
3) Wild-card choice — Send me something creative!!

I’ve also got more Boston qualifier profiles coming. Stay tuned.


Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go!!

Mileage today: 5; Miles I’ve run since Boston: 103.6

Firehouse rock


“Urban funk” — organizers weren’t kidding when they said the Colfax Half Marathon had it, which I ran on Sunday.

It began at Denver’s City Park, wound through it and out for about a mile or so, and quickly shifted runners onto the hard concrete of Colfax Avenue.

The course in general wasn’t too difficult, mostly flat with some slight inclines uphill. 

The race passed through some “interesting” neighborhoods with establishments such as the “The Scary Place Tattoos and Piercing Studio” and lots of “choice” motels.

Brrrrrrr!! It was about 36 at the start and it drizzled the whole time. It could have been worse, however, and I was very thankfully not to be running in a downpour, which it did the entire day before the race.

Generally speaking, I’d rather run when it’s colder than hotter outside and overheat. 

My favorite part of this race, hands down, was how the course went though a fire station — literally. This is the sixth year of the Colfax Marathon/Half Marathon, and this was the first time organizers did this. From the street we turned into the fire station. The front garage door leading into it was open as was the back garage door, creating a tunnel for us racers to pass through and out again onto the streets.

The station had a vintage fire engine parked in front. Fire fighters lined the street and the station, and they cheered us on as we ran.

On the way out of the station we passed under a modern fire engine, which had its ladder raised and an American flag hoisted.

I can say I’ve run many races, but I’ve never run through a building DURING a race before until the Colfax Half. And the crews cheering for us, too — how cool is that??

The latter half of the race was definitely more scenic in the more traditional sense and less urban funky. It went through residential areas and eventually took us back to City Park.

I finished in 1 hour 51 minutes. I was hoping to run as fast as my PR (1 hour 48 minutes) or better but my legs weren’t feeling the love. Each time I tried to pick up my pace, I couldn’t.

I think I left my “fast” back in Hopkinton or perhaps scaling Heartbreak Hill zapped it out of me. While I ran steady, I felt flat.

I think I’m still recovering from Boston and perhaps I’m a bit overtrained. I plan to rest and regroup for the next few weeks and add some core work and weights into my regime. I know a PR is near. If I train smart as well as hard, a PR will come soon. I will chip away at the half marathon PR yet …

Now I can check the Colfax Half off my list.

If Boston is the crown jewel of marathon racing, then Colfax is the costume-jewelry version in my book.

That said, I still enjoyed Colfax for its urban grittiness. Plus, it’s good for a suburbanista such as myself to run outside the cookie-cutter bubble every now and then. I’m glad I tried it.

Plus, that firehouse rocked — big kudos to the organizers on that one.


Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go!!

MIleage on Sunday: 15: MIleage I’ve run since Boston: 93.6

Pimp my ride

Here’s a shot of my bib number and what I’m wearing tomorrow to run the Colfax Half Marathon and match its “urban funk.”

I’ll also wear a rain jacket and gloves, plus a garbage bag to keep dry at the start. I’m stashing an extra pair of sweats and shirt for before and after the race, plus an extra pair of shoes and socks in case it’s still raining like it is today.

Notice my flower-power arm warmers and whale running socks. They match my new aqua Sauconys and Colfax race T-shirt. I choose this  “pimp my ride” theme to go along with the “urban funk.”  I’ll let you know how well the race lives up to its reputation in my wrap-up.

The projected temperature at the start of the race: 40 degrees; projected temperature for the finish 45; 30 percent chance of precipitation.

Get down and get funky — Colfax Half here I come!!


Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go!!

Ready, set, grow

“Eighty percent of success is showing up.”
–Woody Allen
(This is a picture of me “showing up” at the Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon 2010.)

I made it to the gym this morning like so many other days. I cranked out a 5K on the ‘mill followed by weight lifting.

It was an uninspiring workout ( I didn’t run particularly fast or strong, just steady) except for the fact that I actually made it there.

I wanted to skip this workout altogether this morning when my alarm went off at 5:15 a.m. Then I remembered this quote above from Woody Allen, which a friend recently shared with me.

Allen’s point, from his years of auditions as a comedian/actor: Showing up is half the battle. If you don’t have the guts to put yourself out there, then nothing is going to happen. You must go after your dreams.

So … today I showed up at the gym again. And now I’m showing up on the page … again … in cyberspace.

At times, this whole process, improving my running, writing my blog, living my life, getting through the day’s demands feels like shouting into a tin can by myself.

“Heeeelllloo!!! Is anyone out there?? Can anyone hear me??”

I keep showing up and looking for signs, that I’m on the right path, physically, metaphorically, spiritually. etc.

And I keep putting one foot in front of the other. That’s one of the things I do best. I’m tenacious if nothing else.

I’m praying for race-day magic this weekend because each time I’ve run during the last week — whether it’s been outside or at the gym — I haven’t been feeling the love. My body’s felt tired and sluggish and in slow motion.

Meh …

Rather than fight it, I’m acknowledging it today. I’m not throwing in the towel but I am asking God to send me a a towel, or a clue, or something, because I could use it right now. I want to grow as a runner, a writer, a mother, a wife, a human being, and I don’t like idling.

So … if you are listening, God, I am ready — to ready, set, grow this blog into something bigger.

And I’m ready for a half marathon PR this weekend, if it all possible.

And I’m ready to get a better handle on his wife and mothering thing. (Most of the time the two are one and the same.)

And I’m ready and willing to keep showing up as long as it takes.

Meet ya at the finish.


Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go!!

Mileage today: 3.1; Mileage since Boston: 78.6.

Chocolate buns

Ban the bunnies!!

OK, not really, but if I’m going to shake off the few extra pounds I’ve put on since Boston (three to be exact), me and those wascally wabbits …  and chocolate eggs … and jelly jeans …  need to part ways temporarily 

I’m getting chocolate buns, not buns of steel, from those sugary lagomorphs!! 

I can still fit into my clothes but they are tighter. I’m running but obviously not as much as before Boston, which isn’t helping my cause.

So …something’s gotta give or it’s gonna be my zipper.

With each surplus dark chocolate egg I consume now, I feel my fitness mojo slipping, like Superman handling cocoa Kryptonite.

Why am I doing it?

The truth: It’s been a bit of a let-down since I ran Boston. Perhaps I’m trying to sweeten my life again from the outside in, but it never works that way. It must begin from within first.

Today I began a food journal and a gratitude journal again. The goal with each is consciousness. When I focus on gratitude and the present moment, I tend not to overeat, which I do when I feel stressed.

I need to set a new running goal. I’m eyeing the Run the Monument or Steamtown marathons for the fall. I’d like to set a PR.

For the record, yes, I did Weight Watchers after my second child was born. And, no, I don’t have an eating disorder.

I was about 20 pounds overweight after the birth of my two children. Luckily I’ve never been a huge junk-food eater. Weight Watchers helped me rein in portion control. That’s one of my downfalls. I make mostly healthy food choices otherwise.

An example: Have you ever measured a portion of cereal as it’s listed on the side of the box? Most of us don’t. I never did before Weight Watchers. The amount we pour out usually is much more than a single serving. Now I’m aware of that and not fooling myself if I choose to eat more.

That’s kind of stuff I learned from Weight Watchers. I like it because it’s common sense. You can eat anything essentially, but of course you shoot for good nutrition. It gives you leeway for indulgences, too. Holidays and temptations don’t stop just because you are watching your waistline. You can still enjoy some of those, too.

Also, for the record, I eat everything, although I lean more toward vegetarian choices. I dislike processed foods and try to avoid them. I eat lots of chicken and fish, and not a lot of red meat, but it’s not taboo.
And yes, my children have eaten McDonald’s. So have I. We just don’t do it all the time. I do everything with moderation.

Given a choice I prefer foods that once roamed God’s earth, swam in it, or grew from it over food made from compounds that trip my tongue. The Dude and I squabble over this. He prefers to supplement his diet with foods that have more ingredients in them than a film’s end credits.

To each his own …

I pass on those … most of the time … except for those chocolates .. and French bread with a soft middle and a golden crust.

Yum …

Those are two of my biggest caloric weaknesses. Fortunately I like lots of fruits and vegetables, too.

I mention this because one of my readers expressed concerns about me and dieting in an earlier post. I hope this post dispels her worries.

Technically speaking a few extra pounds won’t hurt me. I just like the way my body feels and how I run and the way my clothes fit when I’m a tad lighter. 

Another reason I talk about this is … it side-swiped me when I got into my late 30s and after I had my children (and now in my 40s), how much my metabolism changed. 

When I was younger I could simply exercise and eat what I wanted.  Now I don’t have a choice if I want to remain lean. The calories and the pounds creep on easier and likewise take more work to go away as I’ve aged. The only way they come off for me now is with conscious effort.

I’ve talked to both my runner and non-runner girlfriends my age about this and I’m not alone. Our hormones and body chemistry change as we get older. Weight control and maintenance gets much harder.   

Sure, a few pounds in one year isn’t a big deal. What tends to happen with middle age, however, is you have successive years with a few pounds adding on until suddenly you are carrying 10 or 15 or 20 pounds or more. It’s a slippery slope.   

That’s why I’m cleaning up my act a bit. Those chocolate bunnies must burrow somewhere for now. I’m running a half marathon this weekend and chocolate buns won’t help me do it. If I’m going run fast like a hare, I need to eat more like one. 

Don’t worry. Chocolate bunnies and I aren’t breaking up. We’re still friends, always will be. We’re just taking a breather.


Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go!

Mileage yesterday 3.1; Mileage I’ve run since Boston: 75.5

Angry Birds

Thank goodness for ricochetting fowl and toppling pigs …

A few months ago, Tarzan, my youngest child, learned how to play Angry Birds on my Android phone. It’s made it possible for me to watch Jane’s swim-team practices in peace, and I no longer fear taking Tarzan with me when I go grocery-shopping or run errands.

His tantrums and whining have all but disappeared since Angry Birds flew into our lives. I allow him to play it when we’re traveling or in public situations where I need him to stay content or distracted to keep the peace.

Who knew it would work?? I wish I had discovered this a long time ago.

Before I had children I swore before I’d never rely on TV or video games to occupy my children when I needed it.
Ha!! Now I’m eating my own video-gaming crow (yes, pun intended).

It’s amazing, too, how good Tarzan is at slinging those little orange beaks across the screen, far better than my own little bird brain (yuck, yuck) can.

The Dude got me an Android phone a few months back, telling me it doesn’t pay to fall behind on technology. When you hit midlife, it’s not just the width of your thighs that spreads, so does the digital divide if you let it.

The Dude was right. I’d fallen into a rut. As a stay-at-home mom and freelance writer I frankly had no reason to fly from my own comfortable cage and soar. Once I got over the learning curve, however, it was a good move.

Now I’m blogging away, sending out the weekly eBlasts for the Columbines club, and embracing whatever the future brings.

Lately I’ve been reflecting on Tarzan’s “Bird” time, how engrossed and happy he becomes with conquering each level, and I keep thinking I can learn something from it myself. 

This weekend I’m running the Colfax Half Marathon. I keep visualizing myself with a sling-shot and my own virtual birdies, shooting down the miles, one by one.

Bit by bit, step by step, it’s the best way to break down a road race or any big project when you think about it. Otherwise the whole entity can be too overwhelming.  It takes patience and perseverance, too.  Acknowledging each success gives us thrust to take flight again like those crazy birds in the game.

Naturally I still limit how much Tarzan plays Angry Birds and his video and time TV, but I’m no longer preaching against it altogether anymore. I’ve learned my lesson.

Grace come into our lives in unexpected forms when you let it — and are willing to see — even in the guise of dive-bombing red birds and wide-eyed green cartoon pigs, or just running lots of miles.

Chirp, chirp — oink, oink — fling away.


Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your shoes, and let’s go!

Mileage today 5; Mileage run since Boston: 67.5