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Do you ever wonder where the adventures rest while you’re at work? This morning, Mom and I went to find out. We left The City after work and drove along the smell of the ocean until the lights went away and were just tiny twinkles in the distance. Then we stopped the Covered Wagon and slept with the sound of the ocean cheering for me like a million far-away sports fans and the rain falling on the Covered Wagon like a million far-away drummers.



As the ground started to make enough light that I could see where we were going without my spotlight or light from the sky, I looked skeptically at Mom’s knee. It looked like it was already connected together, even if it was a little floppier than usual and hung a bit like a puppet’s leg when she walked. “Are you sure that the vet isn’t just having you on so that he can sell you a surgery?” I asked. “Those psychos really can’t be trusted.” All she said was, “I’m so sorry…”


When we were almost back to the Covered Wagon I started to be able to see the ocean, and the mountain, and the fog that had been hiding before, I thought about what Mom said. What advice would I give to another runner that just found out that they were going to miss so many adventures? How would I respond to their hopelessness? so I started to compose my inspiring blog post…

“Dear Friends,” I would write.

Then I thought about what they might want to hear. Probably the truth. “…you may feel like life is passing you by,” I’d tell them. “It is.”

Then they would probably want to hear if there was any hope of living a fulfilling life without running for 527 days. “Abandon all hope,” I would tell them frankly. Then, because people sometimes think that things are going to turn out okay no matter what, I would add: “You’re doomed.”

Oscar the Night Pooch


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