A dog went for a walk before the sidewalk set, and left his impression in the wet concrete. A little boy noticed this and etched his initials nearby.
The boy enjoyed the moment, but I wonder what the dog thought.
Among the things I think about on when walking alone at the end of 2013: It would suck to step barefoot into wet cement.
By The Tennessean
My friend Andrew and I rode 62 miles Saturday in Nashville’s big annual group ride for cyclists, the Tour de Nash. We started in a parking lot at Vanderbilt, cycled north through Metro Center, east through Inglewood and Shelby Bottoms, took the Greenway all the way to the Percy Priest dam and back, then back across the Korean Vets bridge from East Nashville, north again to the Bicentennial Plaza to Charlotte, to Sylvan Park, to Belle Meade, up through Percy Warner, and back to Vanderbilt with many meandering, pretty excursions along the way.
That is a long ride.
Scary at the end when a thunderstorm caught us on the last several miles.
Many friends cheered us on; others called us crazy. Why do we do things like this?
Four generations in Centennial Park
A screened porch during a thunderstorm.
Turning the music up, and turning it up again.
Pulling the car over to dance in the middle of the street.
Seeing that it’s a letter, not a bill.
When the flowers at the office are for you.
Kissing him the first time and thinking, I will write this down.
Hearing them for the first time and thinking, I will buy the whole album.
Shaving your legs in a river.
Seeing your name in print.
Laughing louder than anyone else in the room.
Crossing a finish line at the end of 13.1 miles.
Ordering a bloody mary in an airport bar.
Bicycling to the top of a very steep hill.
Flinging your shoes off from the middle of the dance floor.
Good lives are often boldest in their smallest moments.
For the new year, a list of seven certainties:
Sometimes what is right is not always what is rational.
Like tonight, when I ran right up until the minute the gym closed at 9 p.m., I should have driven straight home and eaten dinner.
Ok, I should have eaten dinner before I ran. And preferably something other than cereal or pretzels.
But at 7:45 I was hungry to run, and at 9:01 I was hopped up on endorphins.
So I drove instead. Continue reading
Two thumbs up for all those who watched us run Saturday.
This is a thank you to the people who watched us run the Country Music Marathon and Half Marathon Saturday.
Bill, when I saw you tuning up on Stage One, before the race even began, I was so happy I nearly jumped up there with you. Later, when I passed you, so full of adrenaline and sugar, I blew kisses at you and all your band mates.
Jessica, I broke away from the pack and drifted intentionally toward the edge of the street because I knew you’d be at Water Stop One. I wanted to see you, even though I wasn’t ready for water. Continue reading
The starting line at last year's Country Music Marathon.
I run because the endorphins balance my mind and the time outside soothes my spirit. When I haven’t run in a while, I am more easily frustrated and restless. I don’t sleep as well at night, nor do I focus as easily during the day.
It’s ironic, then, that the week before my first big race, I’m not running much at all. I need sleep before a half marathon, right? I need focus. I don’t need crabbiness and frustration, nor do my friends and family! Continue reading