My family is healthy, my own health is good, my job is rewarding and last weekend, I got all the smooches a lady could ask for. And by got, I mean stole. Some girls don’t give it up so easy.
But while dozens of things in my life may be going right, I can still find the little things getting me down from time to time.
Like when you go for a 5-mile “pace” run and can’t seem to get below a 9-minute mile. Or when NYRR double charges you the Scotland Run registration fee. Or when after all your canvassing, in a surprise ballot casting, you’re suddenly not selected as the next pope.
Two out of three of those things happened to me today, and I’m not going to lie: they put me in a funk. And not the music-genre-that-originated-in-the-mid-late-1960s-when-African-American-musicians-created-a-rhythmic-danceable-new-form-of music kind of funk. (Thanks, Wikipedia. I promise I’ll donate to you some day.) The bad kind of funk.
Fortunately, the world is a strangely serendipitous place, and sometimes just as you need a pick-me up, one comes your way. For some people, it comes in the form of a papal nomination. For me, it was this:
That’s right, folks. Superstorm Sandy and all, I’m in! See you on Staten Island on November 3.
What good news did you get today?