Why XC Rocks


There is something great about cross-country at the high school level. Both our daughters have participated and both have benefitted, though neither would self-select themselves as elite runners.

There is something wonderful about a competition that includes 65+ teams — like the one our youngest ran Saturday — from a variety of schools (public and private) and featuring runnings of all capabilities. Really great to experience!

Goodbye Darling… and Go Dawgs!


We drove to Athens on Monday to deposit Schuyler at UGA for her freshman year. We were warned, advised, counseled and even scolded that it is an emotional drop-off event and not to get emotional when we said goodbye. Good idea perhaps, but I do not think anything can adequately prepare a family for this time-honored, normal and natural — though gut-wrenching — deliberate separation from a way of life 18 years in the making.

Would You Like a Bonus Room with those Weights?

What began with a couple of dumbbells, an exercise mat and a Power 90 DVD has mushroomed into a small gym.  Only thing missing is the sticky-counter juice bar and the same-sex group showering (neither of which is remotely appetizing now).


Yoga blocks, Perfect Push-Up bars, medicine ball, dumbbells, weight bands and PowerBlock weight set

Yoga blocks, Perfect Push-Up bars, medicine ball, dumbbells, weight bands and PowerBlock weight set

Some days my wife must wonder what goes on up in our Bonus Room.  That is where I work out to my P90X or Insanity DVDs.  I also have a yoga mat which I use when torturing myself trying to duplicate a series of yoga routines (or asanas) on the P90X yoga dvd.

White Men Can’t Jump…

… and other plyometric truths.

The East Germans — back before the Berlin Wall came down — knew a thing or two about Olympic training.  Remember their women’s swim team in the 1976 Montreal Olympics?  I sure do, and many current NFL linebackers can only dream of shoulder and neck definition like those chlorine-soaked poolside beauties sported in the Games.  Let’s overlook the fact that many of those swimmers used chemical supplements to reach their goals…

In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning…

… and other weight loss musings.

My Fitbit Aria weight scale is pretty fancy.  It not only knows me when I step on it — can you make out my initials on the illuminated readout  in the photo? — but it also calculates my weight and Body Mass Index (% body fat) or BMI.  That’s the good news.


The bad news is that the scale takes no prisoners and is merciless when rendering its morning readouts — and then wirelessly transferring them to my computer where they are stored.  This is done so that I can see how much weight I’ve lost — or on bad days, can see how many pounds I haven’t shed and can peek at how very close I am to being considered “clinically obese.”  Terrific!

How Can I Miss You If You Never Leave?

I’m not sure exactly when I realized that I was a “short-timer” at the big bank, but I did have a sense – about a three-month lead time — that my 12-year tour was about to end.

Most surprising to me was the lack of alarm I felt at the prospect of having my job eliminated.  In fact, the coming “separation” (corporate speak) motivated me to conclude my activities quickly so that a natural break in my two-years-and-running project could be reached.


College Daze

One of my fears is that I will disappoint my daughters by not helping them prepare adequately for college.  I’m not talking about helping them with homework.  I’m referring to the college search and application process.  Going to college these days is a LOT different than it was when I applied in 1975. 

Beauty (R) & the Beast!

Beauty (R) & the Beast!

I’ll be honest: for a few of us so very fortunate to have successful (and willing) parents, the college process boiled down to where we wanted to go, as well as where we could be admitted.  Most people asked me back then, “Where do you want to go?” not “Where do you think you can get in?”

FatBoy takes on the Fitness Magazines and the Gym

My daughters from time to time call me, lovingly, FatBoy.  The name is oddly appealing (to me at least) and has gained some usage over the past couple of years.

I have noticed – maybe you have too – that fitness magazines for men target guys who are far younger than I am.  Maybe the marketers have figured that at middle age, you either already in shape and thus are in so-called “maintenance mode” or have given up the ghost on ever getting back in shape, so the money is in reaching the younger crowd.

I'm (not) the guy on the right!

I’m (not) the guy on the right!