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Comfort and Joy and Crisis

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Comfort and Joy and Crisis

Got a new book deal last week. It's equal parts running and history, which is all I can say right now. This is the first time in my career I've combined my two passions. I'm very excited. As I've traveled deeper into my career, I'm happy to be taking on projects that really test my creativity and storytelling. This is one of those books. Frankly, I thought Taking Paris was a challenge. Then Berlin and London. Taking Midway was so over-the-top demanding there were days I would sit here at the writing desk and wonder how in the world I was going to pull all the disparate threads together. I'm really excited to share it with all of you when it hits stores in May.

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CHRISTMAS

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CHRISTMAS

The lights are hung. Mantel decorated. Tree standing tall next to the piano, covered in ornaments, listing ever so slightly. Alexa playing Christmas music. Today, I'm going to buy a small tree for the courtyard and decorate it with the ceramic C9 lights I picked up at Lowe's. I couldn't believe they still had Christmas lights for sale after Thanksgiving.

We're not doing a card this year. Actually, we stopped sending cards once the boys grew up. I used to write a Christmas letter, believing that because I'm an author my Christmas letters were somehow less annoying than the rest of the world's. I keep them all in a file. Went back to have a look at them not so long ago. They are a snapshot of what was going on in our lives each of those years.

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THE HANGOVER

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THE HANGOVER

Cross country season is over. Twenty-four weeks of training and racing came to an end yesterday at the California State Meet. My girls team took third place in our division and made the podium. It was a hard-fought conclusion to the double days, Saturday long runs, summer camp, and those many days in between that make for the consistency needed to become a champion.

The girls were ecstatic. I felt the glow of a top finish and did a little jig. Made it home from Fresno and downloaded to Calene about the great weekend until I was talked out. She listened patiently, then resumed watching SVU. My queen loves her murder mysteries.

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THANKSGIVING

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THANKSGIVING

My Thanksgiving week began Saturday at precisely 9:24 in the morning. I was standing atop Reservoir Hill at Mt, San Antonio College cross country course. My girls team was racing for their Southern California division title. The fifth and final scoring runner crossed the finish line at 32 seconds past the minute.

Reservoir is a lofty viewpoint, allowing coaches to not only cheer for their runners as they make their climb to the summit, but also follow their progress back down the hill into the stadium for the finish. I was frantically refreshing the Finished Results app to get a final score….

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SUNDAY MORNING

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SUNDAY MORNING

Sitting here at the kitchen table on a Sunday morning. Sadie at my side with her tennis ball, hoping I will throw it across the room even though she knows Calene isn't a fan of fetch in the house. NFL Countdown on TV. Set my fantasy lineup. Feeling great about how the girls team ran at prelims yesterday and scheming a way for them to win the championship next week. All of which is my way of saying it's time for a newsletter instead of a blog. Have a great Sunday!

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SANTA ANAS

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SANTA ANAS

Our town backs up to the local mountains. Some cities have houses facing the sea. We have Mother Saddleback staring at our backyards. Fire ravaged the steep areas on the very edges of Rancho Santa Margarita a few months ago, burning all the way to the summit and up the slopes of the valley on the other side for miles. Last Wednesday Santa Ana winds roared through the pass connecting our town with cities on the other side of Saddleback.

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SIMPLE PLEASURES

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SIMPLE PLEASURES

I don't really put a lot of preparation into this space. I like to riff. But yesterday morning I had one of those breakthrough awarenesses that seems tailor-made for blogging. It is this: one of life's great pleasures is being the first to break the toilet paper seal in a newly cleaned porta-pottie on race day. So righteous. So pure. Then to step out into the first moments of a pale morning sunrise and see runners arriving to compete. Washing my hands at one of those portable outdoor soap dispensaries, then wandering off in search of a food truck for a breakfast burrito.

I mean, does it get any better than that?

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DJ

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DJ

Django blew out his ACL and the vet says the surgery for an old dog is beyond expensive. So he prescribes pain pills and time, saying the joint will calcify. The doggie day care acknowledges his wound by putting a yellow band around his neck to indicate his limp is an injury. Combined with his normal blue collar it looks like he's wearing the flag of Ukraine around his neck. The place is now synonymous for anxiety, unpredictability, and complete What the Fuck.