Sorry for the hiatus. Last week just got away from me. Flew back east with my wife to celebrate our son's 20th birthday. Sometime in January he emailed asking for a marathon training program, saying that he had decided to run the B&A Trail Marathon in suburban Baltimore. The fact that it coincided with our trip was just a bonus. I worked up a crash program, something he could manage on an hour or so a day without interfering with his studies. I didn't inquire as to how closely he was following it, knowing that he could figure things out for himself once he had the road map. Winter interfered, of course, with Snowmageddon and the inherent roaring winds and lesser blizzards that chapped the East Coast this past January and February. The treadmill would have been the obvious resort, but so many runner moved indoors during those storms that the treadmills at his school broke down in record numbers. Anyway, he stepped to the line this past Sunday, looking about as carefree as I've ever seen a first-time marathoner look. It's something of a tradition in our family that fathers jump in an pace their sons through at least part of a marathon, and so it was that I joined him at mile 17. It was my way of carrying on the tradition, but also a great opportunity to run with my oldest son on a sunny (yet cold) winter morning. I had a blast. Not only was it special to be with Dev, but the B&A organizers have imbedded some sort of positive spark in that race, some kernel of wonder that made being on that course pure joy. Spectators cheered on the runners, the runners thanked the spectators for coming out, the aid station volunteers were champions, and the runners were a brethren, exhorting one another to keep pushing. Lots of smiles. Lots of special moments, like Dev's friends Sierra and Amy looking effortless as they powered through the miles, and that inevitable moment at Mile 22 when  Dev thanked me for the run and told me he that he wanted to go it alone to the finish. So I stepped aside and watched him run into the distance, just about as proud as a Dad could be. Callie and I drove ahead to the finish to see him come in. He kicked, which is something I've never been able to accomplish at a marathon. And then it was into the Severna Park High School cafeteria for pizza and massages, and some of that old school running enthusiasm. The post-race vibe pulsed with that casual euphoria of finishing a race in the company of strangers who have become -- if only for a few hours -- the closest of friends. 

All in all, a wondrous weekend. 

Keep Pushing... Always