We gather together at an ungodly hour to reenact the original 26.2 miles run by Pheidippides which, fun fact, he wound up dropping dead from.
I lost patience for the inane conversations I used to be a part of and I’m way more judgmental of people who can’t handle the simplest situations. I wouldn’t call those lessons as much as I’d call them side effects.
I finally understood the myth of Sisyphus when my son was diagnosed with a brain tumor two years ago. And like the legend, we were faced with a huge mountain, a massive, incomprehensible rock, and a job that no one would ever sign up for.
It’s my birthday. The anniversary of when I showed up in this world and a nice reminder that I’m still here. Also a nice reminder that I’m older and that much closer to not being here.
Dr. Bhatia was a masterful, talented surgeon, a man who understood that removing a little boy’s splinter was just as important as removing the tumor that was in his brain.
Originally posted on Writing Elves:
It’s hard not to get into the pageantry and excitement of the Winter Olympics. The triumphs! The devastating losses! The tears! The drama! I loved watching it. And then there was Curling. I genuinely feel…
No matter where you are on the scale of worst case life experiences, I can point you in the direction of much harder, more painful stories that don’t jive with your shallow, linear explanation of why bad things happen.
I’m not sure when the transformation occurred, so it must have happened slowly. But a few weeks ago, when I went to Vegas to run in the Rock ‘n Roll Marathon, my friends decided I was an athlete. I’m not.
I’ve been a high school English teacher for so long that you’d think I had the letter writing gig down to a science. You know, finding ways to turn a lazy, obnoxious, entitled kid into a “witty future leader, brimming with possibilities.”