Congrats, Bob. I'm sure you will look lovely with scarf draped artfully around that fine, thin neck of yours. Just kidding. I would imagine your wife will LOVE it!
My feet hurt but there have been at least three times in the past when they hurt worse. My legs were okay, still obedient when I asked them to run. I never really bonked bad. On good ground, I made decent progress. Problem was, there wasn't much decent ground. The thought of being out there on the trail at snail's pace for sixteen or seventeen hours was revolting, especially knowing the others would likely be in their tents by the time I got through. And, to do this again and again for the next nine days? Well, It's hard to say "I'm done." But I did. I suppose I could start from the beginning, telling you all about every last detail of my short-lived adventure. (And I will. Only later.) But I am compelled to speak first of the decision day. Day five. The day I said those three (two if you count the contraction) fatal, final words. The fifth day of the Tour de Virginia, the 568-mile brainchild of phenom ultrarunner Eric Grossman, started early, but not as ...
Over the years, I have enjoyed home parties. You know the kind: a bunch of women gather, a representative lays out her wares (everything from kitchen tools to jewelery, to makeup and skin care products that promise a glowing, beautiful face), and the attendees pick, choose, and fill out order forms. I've been both a rep and a hostess. Back in the late 70's I made sewed crafty items and held my own little in-home selling parties. Years later, I sold for The Pampered Chef (TM) since I loved the products. But alas, I gave up because I didn't feel right about asking already financially-strapped folks to buy what they could probably live without. Yeah. I'm not much of a saleswoman. Borrowed from www.mytradesofhope.com/tamarawalston But every one in a while, a business idea comes along that grabs my attention. I found that in 'Trades of Hope.' Until about a month or two ago, I had never heard of this group. But then I came across a friend's post, Tamara Wal...
I don’t want to get too excited. And, I’m not really even sure I want to say anything publicly because there is always a chance that I might have to eat some crow. Yuk! Not my idea of fun. But, I feel something stirring inside and I like it. (And no, the stirring is certainly not a baby!) I haven’t felt like this for a very long time. Maybe. Just maybe. . .See a smile slowly creep across my face. Several weeks ago I decided to join the YMCA again. More non-running options for this aging body, you know. I wanted to glide effortlessly through the water again. And all those exercise contraptions. . .well, who could resist? So join I did. Headlong into the pool I went. The effortless gliding took a little more work than I had remembered. And the 5:45 a.m. core strength class nearly caused my stomach muscles to explode like rubberbands too tightly stretched. Then we have to talk about Pilates. My, I knew I wasn’t Gumby flexible but this was ridiculous. What was so easily achieved in my ...
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