A good portion of my summer vacation in 1971 was spent trailing my two older brothers and cousin around Brainerd, Minn., visiting every record store and head shop in hopes of finding the new album by The Who. My cousin had just seen them in concert at the Mississippi River Festival, and “obsessed” is not too strong a word to describe his quest to find the record. That show at MRF lives on in St. Louis lore as one of the best …Keep reading
I set a personal record this morning.
For several years now, I’ve been irregularly keeping track of my weight. When I think of it, I weigh myself. And when I think of it again, I jot down the number in a file in my gmail “drafts” folder. That file goes back more than four years, and the numbers tell a story of the changes in my fitness level over that time. Sort of like Santa’s list: it knows when I’ve been bad or good.
I won’t get into specifics here, but there’s a certain number that I would consider my “ideal” weight for running. If I’m at that number, I’m in either pretty darn good shape, or I’m very, very hungry. If we were to plot all of the …Keep reading