I am fat as a tick after a three day doughnut-eating binge. I haven’t shaved, or bathed, and I have gone bald. I look like Dom Deluise.

E. is off for a morning run. I will be heading off on my own run in just a minute. It is a chilly morning, and I have promised myself I would no longer run in the cold. As soon as I see just a little bit more sun, I will trot off into the damp morning mist.

The news these days is grim. Like the rest of the country, I go about my daily business as if all that nasty bloodletting overseas isn’t really happening. It is easy to feel disconnected from events in Iraq–I don’t know of anyone fighting there, and since I openly despise the current leadership if this country and openly opposed–through letters, marches, donations to peace groups–the decision to go to war, I guess I feel justified in believing that the mess in Iraq belongs solely to the White House. But, no–I am wrong. It is a tragedy for everyone, regardless of political stripe. It is a tragedy for sane, desperate Iraqis, too.

I see a ray of sun a-slanting across the road. Time to run.

Take a deep breath.
You can do it, man. Just take that first step.