Shortly after the 1908 London Olympics, gold medalist Johnny Hayes and would-be gold medalist (he collapsed and was disqualified for receiving assistance) Dorando Pietri engaged in a match race to settle the score. Just two men. Racing neck and neck for an entire marathon.
Inside Madison Square Garden.
We were wrapping up the Saturday long run. The creek is high in O'Neill so we couldn't get across. What was meant to be ten miles turned out to be a little less than seven. But I threw in a few hill loops ("slopes") on Twisty and a hard uphill tempo Mesa finish. What we lacked in mileage we made up for in quality. I didn't love it but I was OK with it. The slow build as we approach track season means more emphasis on flexibility to prevent injury. Better to do too little than too much.
Calene had a CT scan on Thursday. You know your world is surreal when CT scans and PET scans are business as usual. I have become a waiting room connoisseur, knowing which have the best chairs and plugs for my laptop. We were running a little late so I dropped Calene off and went to park. By the time I got to the imaging center they'd already taken her back. I sat down and began to write. It was just me and some other guy across the room who was speaking loudly into his phone, using a foreign language I did not understand. I have been blessed with the ability to write anywhere, shutting out distractions as if they didn't exist. I credit being a detached introvert for this skill set.
It is a strange contradiction that I've read every single day this year but can only remember a handful of books. I figure that means they're pretty special. So as I eschew a list of my favorite Christmas movies, because we all know it begins and ends with Love, Actually, Die Hard, and It's a Wonderful Life…here's my list of favorite books. I have to admit that I'm as surprised as you may be about what stands out.
A lazy morning on the couch, waiting for the Packers game to start. Cup of coffee, fireplace roaring (hey, it's almost 50 degrees), dogs sleeping on the floor. I don't particularly like the Patriots but I like that they're beating Buffalo, just because I still see them as the underdog. Obviously, I don't feel the same about the Bears beating the Browns. Or the Jets, for that matter.
I woke up with the stomach flu yesterday. Still have it. Banished to the guest bedroom so I don't get Callie sick. The mattress isn't firm enough so I couldn't get comfortable. Spent the night tossing and turning, waking up every hour. David Cassidy's "I Think I Love You" played over and over in my head. Why? Who knows with fever dreams. It could just have been ABBA or John Denver, which would be equally confounding.
