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I thought I could do it. I really did. I thought that with just one small 5K under my belt I could place in my age group in Iowa’s largest race, the Bix 7. Oh man, I put so much thought and planning into doing this. But when my Garmin informed me of my time for that third mile - much of which was downhill - reality splattered into me like the onslaught from an angry starling above. I was not able to maintain the pace I’d wanted. Indeed, given how I was already starting to

406 days. Approximately 9757 hours. That’s how long it had been since my last race. As those who follow this post know, the time since that race has seen far too much drama. Knee injury. Platelet-Rich Plasma injection. MRI. Meniscus surgery. Blah. Blah. Blah. What mattered most to me was the walk up to that starting line in downtown Ames, Iowa. Me and just over four hundred other participants clustering closer and closer together. What was going through my head? Prett

Standing outside a wonderful bnb in McMinville, OR. Could've easily stayed there a few more days! The instruments and memorabilia are packed away. But the memories linger. Memories of seven runs over ten days in three different states with my Nikes pounding away on one of the nation’s most renowned walk paths to remote trails at over eight thousand feet elevation to touching base with my spiritual center. A short, but thoroughly delightful adventure that I call The “No Slu