Hey All. I'm back. Took a couple weeks off to do some fun stuff and focus on Taking Midway. Traveled to Las Vegas for a weekend with the neighbors. I'm not a travel-with-the-neighbors kind of guy but Callie and I had a blast. Last week was the Olympic Trials in Eugene. Also a wonderful time with my brethren at the USA Track and Field Foundation.
The California State Track Meet is being held this weekend in Fresno. I am not there. Qualifying for state is tough, with five straight weeks of do-or-die meets. Despite having the best coaching season of my career, none of my runners got through. Split seconds made the difference. That's track and I'm not complaining. Records were set, personal bests were improved, the runners are all excited about the future.
My wife likes to call me Mr. Magoo. Calene claims I wander through life in a state of mild befuddlement, flirting with calamity without knowing. I blame it on the way I arrange my days, traveling from one obsession to another: predawn dreams about the presidency of Teddy Roosevelt, straight out of bed to sunrise practice with my runners, then an hour with my novel before putting playtime away and turning my focus to historical research and writing.
Saturday night at the Great Park. America's biggest cross country meet raced under the lights. Arrived at 1 pm and stayed until almost midnight. Usually, the Woodbridge Invitational competes late to avoid mid-September heat. This year, the weather was cool and damp enough that I put on a sweatshirt at 3 and kept it on until the bitter end. As those who know me will attest, I will find any excuse to wear a sweatshirt.
I'm sitting in my office on a Sunday afternoon. Rode the Peloton, went to church, Ricardo's in San Juan for crunchy tacos and refried beans, a little time re-reading The Winds of War, and now here I sit.
Unlike my friend Dan, I am perpetually underdressed. I try. Sort of. But it seems I'm always a jacket and pair of dress shoes short. As my wife told me last night after we attended a party here in New York, I tend to look like I just left track practice. Dan, on the other hand, is always pressed and shined, no matter the occasion.
