One more time…

Indeed another year has passed. Or maybe it’s just that another one’s begun. I’m not sure what birthdays are supposed to mark.

Just like Christmas, my birthday took on a new level of fun and entertainment because of our silly little two year old.
He came running in from errands with sara, stopped in front of me and announced: ‘Papa, we went to the tennis racket store.’
No surprise then when I unwrapped that present, but that didn’t really matter. Watching his excitement was more important than any gift.

Leo walked around singing a variation on the theme of happy birthday most of the day.
He and Sara had a blast making a crazy poppy seed cake from the German store down the street. It came complete with a stencil of composer George Frideric Handel.

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© Tim LaBarge 2008

Tommy reminded me this morning of my semi-secret goal of running my age on my birthday some day. I thought it was going to happen at 34 or 35. I’d met this guy in the park out for a training run before his annual running of his age. He started the tradition when he was 24 or so and vowed that as long as he was healthy, he’d do it every year. he was going to be 56, if I remember correctly, and he had indeed done it every year. We ran for a while together and then he turned up a trail and disappeared calling back, “You can do it, it’s easy…”

Well, it hasn’t happened yet. and it’s one of those impossible equations to somehow come out ahead on…the distance keeps getting greater, I keep getting a bit older. Thirty eight and counting. So instead I ran 2.5 miles, my usual morning wake-up call, and proceeded to have a great day laughing at Leo with Sara and shooting a few assignments.

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