#146

One for the challenges of being a nonfiction writer is that you can’t tell half of your friends when you’ve finally gotten published. Chances are they did something stupid you spent several weeks of your time and talent judging them for it.

#106

But when the time came, and I chose to close my notebook and lace up one of my three pairs of running shoes, I discovered that the hope was nothing more than that—a wish for an untrue thing to be true.   Honestly, I have to confess, I’m not sure if I like actually running or if I just prefer it to sitting in front of a blank sheet of paper attempting (and failing) to be special.