My son was born. At 8:31 a.m., weighing 8 lbs. 8 oz., 22 inches long. He had red hair and red eyelashes - which caused some raised brown eyebrows of my husband. Later he would meet some red-haired relatives of mine and understand. But my boy looked just like his daddy anyway, so there was never any doubt about his paternity. His hair later turned almost white/blonde. Today he is on a ship on his way to Iraq. I am proud of my son. I just wish I could talk to him to wish him a happy birthday. He was in Korea for his 20th and I didn't get to talk to him on that day either. This year we did celebrate this birthday in July when he was here.
I have got the after-race anti-climatic stuff going on. I guess I will get out for a run this morning. But I feel no great need to. There is no urgency about it. Knowing myself as I do, I am sure I will find a new challenge so that there will be some urgency to work this old body relentlessly.
"Only Step One, where we made the 100 per cent admission that we were powerless over alcohol, can be practiced with absolute perfection. The remaining eleven steps state perfect ideals. They are goals toward which we look, and the measuring sticks by which we estimate our progress." -- Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, p. 68