During a phone call with my dad this evening he pointed out I hadn’t posted in a while. The long and short of it is I am tired. Reaching that point of the semester with teaching/coaching/recruiting that I am exhausted.

So as I sit here on my treadmill getting up the motivation to run I look back a few hours into my day when my girls were so spent that they had to drag themselves out of the water.

I feel as long as I am putting other humans through such tortures I should be no exception.

My legs hurt. My knee is sore as shit. My hip is out of alignment. My back feels like someone took a whip to it. My shoulders are in no way pleasant. And most difficultly my mind is broke at the moment.

But that’s why I have to stand up, go for a run, finish homework, and put some words on the page before I sleep.

My father made sure I was stronger than life. So I run, and as I run I’m reminded of the words of my good friend Tim Smith as spoken as he drug my dying ass on a run around Wilkes-Barre during out masters… “every runner is running toward something or away from it.”