Two of my steadfast life rules:

First, I’ll eat anything you put in a tortilla. Second, everything tastes better when cooked in a cast iron skillet, including pan pizza.

I have many suburban memories of birthday parties, Pac-man arcade games, and hot pan pizza from Pizza Hut. Before the Hut went in the crapper.

The marathon is on Monday and it feels really strange and disconcerting to have it in the fall. This won’t make a lot of sense to those outside the area but just imagine if they decided to hold the Mummers parade in July.

I’ve only run one marathon and, with an arthritic knee, it will likely remain that way but I think about that marathon a lot. Running a marathon is an ambitious goal and the work you need to do to just get to the starting line is immense and often humbling. I found it also has a way of clarifying the other priorities or goals in your life.

Being constantly busy and trying to fit everything in is not the same as being productive. You often end up just feeling restless, bouncing from one thing to another. Finding the right balance between action and inaction is one of the more difficult things in life. It’s about working hard and then relaxing. Not working really hard and then avoiding work.

Big goals force you to prioritize and pare down your list. That is the way to find that balance. Sure, you can finish a marathon and do a bunch of other big ambitious things but you’ll likely only be able to do all of those things half as well as you could. Eliminate the inessential and you get the double benefit of doing the essential stuff better.

Hypothetically speaking, I might have gotten upset with Cecilia this past week for forgetting two things that she needed for dance class. We had to turn around and go back to the house.

Why can’t she be more organized? She’s got all these tools and technology at her disposal that I never had. She has a computer in her pocket that can buzz and beep and automatically remind her to pack these things. She’s got it easy. Kids have it easy.

Right?

Maybe all these things I never had might make it harder? Maybe, despite my best efforts, I’m not the easiest person to live with. Maybe being a kid has always been and always will be harder than I can remember. Maybe the best response isn’t yelling or getting frustrated but trying to empathize.

I turned around and we drove back to the house, got the stuff, and the drove back to dance.

Turns out dance lessons don’t start until this week. I should probably put a reminder in my phone.