Ballad of the Unborn

Last October our friend, Ernie, stopped by a yard sale.  While browsing, he spotted a mug which appealed to him and picked it up for a closer inspection.  The mug was in great condition, but inside he found a folded piece of paper.  He carefully opened the lined paper, yellowed with age, to find a poem written in beautiful handwriting.  When he showed it to the seller she said he could take it with the purchase of the mug.  

When he showed the poem to me I couldn't get past the first stanza without tears.

Self-Defense For Runners

A couple of weeks ago I signed up for a class offered by one of the local running stores in my new hometown.  This class wasn't about form, or speed, or tempo, or anything like that.  This was about Self-Defense for Runners.  I'm new to the area, am still figuring out where to run, and have not found any running buddies outside of a weekly "social run" sponsored by the same store.  If they're teaching about safety in this new—larger—city in which I now live and run, then it's probably something I ought to learn.

And then, on New Year's Eve, in the park where I recently found my new favorite trail, a runner was killed.

A Clean Slate

A New Year has begun, a new calendar is ready to be filled.  Fresh and new and full of promise.

But how is this different from one day to the next?  We've exchanged the 13 for a 14, but today is still Thursday, the day before Friday.  Good intentions in the form of "Resolutions" have just as much chance as any intention at the beginning of any week of the year to succeed or fail, according to the strength of my own discipline or the twists and turns of providential circumstance.