Have you ever seen one of those death scenes in the classic-old-movie style, where the character clenches his stomach or his chest and stumbles through a doorway or down a corridor or a road and his face is crushed through with pain and even tears and most of all a kind of ruin and regret within himself and he falls and struggles to his feet and staggers on until he collapses in the street or topples over the balcony or even better off the cliff?


Well anyway: I ran the 5K at the Ottawa Race Weekend this Saturday.

C ran the 10.

While Oona hung out with Uncle Nick's mom and ate chicken fingers and ice-cream.

Only one of these stories has a pain-free ending.

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This is post number 1001. What you have seen here over the years cannot be unseen, but please remember that drinking helps.

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