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shameless self-promotion, 386 in a series + a sign of insanity

Sometimes, I write something that, with the help of a great editor, turns into something that I'm right proud of. This essay in this summer's New Haven Review is one of those. Spread the word, especially you knitters.*

As if that weren't exciting enough, on Sunday I committed to this May's Pittsburgh Half Marathon. I figured my first might as well be in my hometown. Then I realized how freaking hilly my hometown is. Sometimes, I make really poor decisions.

(Also: I kinda want to throw up when faced with the very idea. But in a good way.)

* Unless, of course, you hate it. Then tell only me.

Comments

The essay was wonderful--it brought tears to my eyes. I think I was crying for all you (and my daughters, one of whom was also born in l971) have had to go through, for EZ, who I didn't think was ever going to die, and for everyone whose life she touched, thousands and thousands of us. I am going to print the essay out, and keep it with the letter I got from EZ, in 1975. Thank you for such a lovely gift.

Great essay. As for the half marathon - if it seems daunting, it's only because it sounds like the sort of thing that human beings are incapable of doing, yet loads of them do, so you'll kick its ass.

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