‘Tis the Season

At my husband’s office party the other night, his boss asked me how far I could run before just falling down.  I answered “Nine miles, so far.”  He took a step back, this talented, funny man, and yelped, “Wow!  I think I might be able to go about two before I collapse!”  He grinned at me and handed me a shot of scotch, which I politely took, sipped a bit of, and passed off to my husband.

Last week I ran 37 miles.  It felt pretty good, and was collapse-free.

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