My own resolution: Finishing a marathon
Far too early on a cold, wet, miserable Saturday morning in December, I stared off into the 26.2 sleet-soaked miles in front of me, and, just moments before the starter's gun fractured the silence I turned to my buddy Kurt and said, "Hey, if I kill myself doing this today, promise me, at my funeral, you won't go around telling people, 'At least he died doing something he loved.' Don't tell people that, OK? Just tell them the truth."
And the truth is this: A year ago on ...
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