Where to start? I don’t ask this to simply recognize that I see so many good things in front of me that I don’t know which one to address first. I say it more for the fact that, unlike the races or the runs that we all engage in so regularly, there is no real “start” here, merely a continuation of something very good.

A few weeks ago, a close running friend lost his oldest son to the war in Afghanistan. I wanted to act. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to call him and let him know that I was here if he or his family needed anything. But I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t know what to say. There aren’t any Hallmark cards filed under “Lost A Son/Daughter To War” … no classes about how to talk to somebody after they’ve lost a child. So I went out for a run. I thought about Nick. I thought about his dad, his sisters, his brother and his friends.