I took Django to the dog park today. What used to be a chore is now an escape, so I sat on a bench as he trotted around with other dogs, check and rechecking my social media, because that's the only form of outside connection these days. If I had to estimate the difference in screen time from two weeks ago to now, the difference would not be measured in minutes, but in passion: from "enthusiastic" to "obsessed.”
I don't want to write about the coronavirus. It's all anyone is talking about and it would be nice to focus on some other sentiment. Having said that, NOT writing about the pandemic is putting my head in the sand. So in the name of being present and mindful, here are a few thoughts about life during wartime.
Cross country season has come to a glorious end. My top runner earned All-American status in the mud and slop of Glendoveer Golf Course, the redwood-landscaped track where the Nike Cross Nationals were held last Saturday. The conditions were old-school cross country, every runner finishing with their singlet spattered and unrecognizable.
Hello, dear readers. Many of you don't get my monthly newsletter, which is written to be light and motivating, as well as a blatant push for you to buy my books…. It's a little more heartfelt, with an edge not found in the normal newsletter (subscribe here). But this stuff is on my mind right now.
I'm afraid I haven't been completely honest with all of you. As much as I love the author photo posted on this site, it was taken at least fifteen years ago. For various reasons, I've never gotten around to getting a new one. But as it becomes clear that I am an older and more grizzled version of that guy, I'm not just going to leap blindly into the world of author photos.
