Author Archive
Mrs. Slaney’s birthday, my knee blew up again and I cannot stand on my own two feet. Going on a month now, too depressed to write and hard to find a comfortable position to compose. Tough times. Then I get on social media and hello, it’s Benji Durden’s birthday. He always manages to cheer me…
The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. – Nelson Mandela 2015, I wrote You can’t fall if you don’t climb. But there’s no real joy in living your whole life stuck to the ground. Try flying. 2025, older now. I could more easily fly today than…
Promised Throwback Thursday, and I shall remember whenever the stars align. Don’t always feel fully compositional. Here’s something from October 2015. The young redhead was still a member of The Deep State. Drug Court Administrator. Geez, what was I thinking? My wife asked for a favor. My wife asked for a…
2025. Brooksville, Florida. Five in the afternoon. Hot and humid in the pouring rain. Left Knee (“Neal”) blew up again. Regular readers might know, that’s the fourth time. Four. 4. Dog in my lap, ice bag on my compression wrapping. Pain so bad, my knee specialist has agreed to see me in just ten days….
“Let me bring to your attention to the increased cover price. The additional twenty-five cents is our response to a number of running stores who requested a larger retail margin. The extra quarter is being passed on directly to those stores, and RUNNING’s income will not be affected.” – From the Publisher Recently surprised by…
Who’s the guilty party? You make up your own mind.
Still get a kick out of seeing my name in print, in any periodical – English or otherwise – that ain’t the police blotter. Or the obits.
I turn the radio off as we pull into the Woodburn Drag Strip, feeling like a 98-pound weakling at a body-building contest. I park next to a chopped and channeled ’50 black Merc with a bumper sticker that reads: “Concerned About My Driving? Call 1-800-WHO-Cares?”
‘Steve Prefontaine had nothing to do with the design of the Pre Montreal.’
He came into my life when I was 15 years old and molded me into a competitor. He came back into my life when I was 46, divorced, lost and broken. He reminded me that I had a champion’s heart and to never quit. Here’s to you Coach Noe De Leon! The teams are ready…