So there I was.  A lazy 38 year old who had told anyone and everyone that I was going to run a marathon in Honolulu and change the life of so many unfortunate children who through no fault of their own had been diagnosed with a blood related cancer.  Can you imagine how good I looked?  People who thought I was a loser who couldn't apply himself were starting to look at me in a different way.  Guys thought I was cool.  Girls thought I was a nice guy.  What more could you ask for?

I'm not sure that I'll get this finished before I head off to the gym for my morning  clients.  But it'll allow me to clear my head of some of the thoughts careening around my cranium. 

I was taken in completely by the Saturday morning run with the TNT group.  I wanted to sign up right there and then and raise my $1500 for the cause.  But it was too late to join.  So I had to wait for the next program which was for the Honolulu marathon.  Nice!!!  Not a bad place to run your first 26.2 miles. 

It's two o'clock in the afternoon and I've trained 6 people so far with 2 to go.  I was up at six making sure the web site clients have workouts for the next week or two or 3.  And I've got a bunch of calls to make to see if people are going to be training with me or not.  AND, I taped today's Tour de France.  Which I'm so sorely tempted to sit and watch.  But I'm going to let it wait.  Because I've had this incident that happened to me a long time ago rattling around in the back of my head and I'm damned if I can work out why.  Is it a premonition

Or does it really?  I know I read somewhere the statement that 'there is no such thing as original thought.'  With that in mind, I'm fairly confident that most of the non-fiction stuff that's going around in the world is a variation on a theme of something that was first thought of hundreds or thousands of years ago.  Writers like me are merely putting our own spin on things we've heard or read.  So here's the last entry in the book for the month of June.

Before I write out the great page from the book that's taken me 4 days to spit out, I have to send my condolences to the poor sod who actually read my blog entries - all of them!  that had to hurt....to quote....somebody - "you're a better man than I Gunga Din."  Good luck on getting the point of this diatribe....

It's getting late and I've got a busy day tomorrow so I thought I'd try and get something down tonight.  I've got a feeling that I'm going to get more and more visits in the next few months.  And just like anything in life, practice makes perfect.  And thankfully I've got the aforementioned pieces that I'm going to plagiarize. 

I spent an hour 'dead-heading' my portulacas yesterday?  And I doubt anyone, should this ever be seen by more than the couple who check it out, will ever understand what that means.  Or what the heck does it have to do with anything.  Well, portulacas are the flowers in my beds in the front garden.  And 'dead-heading' means removing the brown and shriveled up flowers once they've bloomed.  And there's a ton of symbolism going on. 

I think I'm going to cover the titles in reverse order.  The  best man in my 2 weddings and best friend made the observation that he's never felt that much sympathy for his wife when she's carried their 2 children.  And that's because since i've know him, some 25 years, he's been either slightly or extremely overweight.  When he came over for our weddng in 2005 he had to be the equivalent of 9 months pregnant!  Of course he's joking.  But it's interesting how Lisa is perceiving people as she closes in on 7 months

I'm opting to write at nine in the morning instead of run because I've run every day since I got here!  Shock horror!  So I'm taking a day off and giving my legs a break.  And to keep on track I'm going to continue with my train of thought from Thursday.

I'm on location for my next few blogs.  Up in Maryland visiting with my wife's family and friends.  And I've almost stopped sweating from the run I just finished.  Which is what I want to write about today.  As well as a little about the Norm Macarthy book the Road.  And I apologize in advance if this becomes an unreadable stream of consciousness.  That's what happens when you go from Norm to Michael Chabon all in one day.