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Letters From the Home Front

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I managed to carve out a little time for a run yesterday. It's a ritual I used to perform three to four times a week. Now, I seem to look for excuses. "Wait! Isn't this the day that we honor the union of Eastern Rumelia with the Bulgarian Principality? I'll run tomorrow." So, running for me has become more of a seasonal thing. And while I was at an intersection hunched over a utility box, praying the signal would stay red just a little bit longer so that the respiration process could resume, I was thinking about my client who had completed a marathon the previous weekend. When I asked her how she had done, she beamed, "I won in my age class. But then, there were only two of us old gals." Winning is still winning. She gets props from me. The only way I could have completed the 26.2-mile course would have been on the back of a reasonably sturdy mule. Enjoying the good fortune of a poorly timed traffic light, and with a heart rate still suggesting that I wa...