"It does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop." -- Confucius

It is almost light enough now in the very early morning. That will make all the difference soon. I walked late last week at Green Lake, shedding my jacket and gloves for the last half mile or so.

I worked with Amy this morning in the gym, and now also have a locker. You would not think that such a small thing as a locker would fall into the same category of wins as early morning light and soft air. But it does.

Finally, I am still taking the mat pilates class on Sunday mornings. The benefits are cumulative, even though I only do it once a week.

I said I would start training in earnest in March. It is almost upon me.

Lunar eclipse.

It's a full moon. And 5:45pm we'll be able to see the beginning of a full lunar eclipse. I've thought for some time to try walking after work, and it would seem an ideal opportunity tonight, especially when astronomers think we will be able to see the rings of Saturn. I'm sure this type of eclipse has happened hundreds of times over the years, but it does remind us that the universe is vast, and new, to us.

Take a chance....

Two glorious days of sunshine, warming us from the inside out. The air is soft and the light is magical. There are buds on my daphne odora and bulbs thrusting up in the garden. The moon is nearly full, and all of life is new. "Take a chance," it says. "Come on outside to walk."

"Tomorrow is often the busiest day of the week." -- Spanish proverb

I worked with my trainer Amy on Tuesday, and we both agreed that I weigh less when I am walking more, though I have converted a lot of mass to muscle. She is away for the next ten days, so I am on my own in the gym. As if that is not rudderless enough, I did not get much encouragement from the guy working on my orthodics. Maybe Leroy is right and I should have walking shoes made to deal with my unique right foot.

This Friday is our wedding anniversary, adding to a number of years that will not seem to compute. Our life has never been boring! Monday is a holiday (good news) but next week is a truly short work week because we fly to Phoenix on that Friday to spend the weekend with Cassandra and Sabrina and their families.

"The end is where we start from." --T.S. Eliot

Thousands walk sixty miles in 14 different American cities because they have the end clearly in mind as they begin. What else would keep them training for six or so months before the event transpires?

The walk itself is the expression of support for the cause. The dollars we raise provide the means to find a cure. We are closer than we have ever been before.

Stick with me as I start to train for this year's walk. I know many different folks read this blog, and I am glad it offers hope and inspiration to walkers, to survivors, and to the curious. Thanks for your emails and comments.

"A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step." -- Lao Tsu

About 18 of us gathered in Everett today to do an unofficial first walk of four miles. It was great to see everyone, including new walkers. Sidewalks, a bit of uphill, and then a stretch along Airport Road.

I have been doing three miles, with no blisters. But I guess that 25% more is what does the trick. I've got one on the right foot, right under the bunion. I'm going to get my orthodics adjusted. Other than that and a tight left glut, I feel great. Quite a change from last year's first walk with a group at Seward Park!

We start in earnest on March 15th. Betwen the training in the gym, Green Lake walks, and the mat pilates, I should feel even more like an athlete than I did today.

Remembering Hal

I post many kinds of pictures here, many of them having not much to do with training to walk 60 miles. This is one such photo. Pictured above, in December of 2006 with us in Philadelphia, are Naomi and Harold Schedl. She is an artist, a painter, a native of South Africa, who taught for many years at the University of Iowa. He is one of the most kind persons you could ever meet. You can see that in his face, in that open smile, and from the eyes. He is also a physician, former head of Internal Medicine at the University of Iowa Medical Center. Their oldest son Paul is married to my sister, Mary. And Leroy and I have known them for 40 years. Though we are related only indirectly, I certainly have thought of them as part of our extended family and as close friends -- of the type that you simply pick up the earlier conversations with when you do meet. We have stayed in their home, know all their boys, and share so many interwoven memories.

Naomi told me last night that the two of them had been out cross country skiing last Friday, Saturday and Sunday. That's entirely typical of the active inquiring life they have led since retirement. He and Naomi had breakfast together yesterday morning (he cooked, his job) and then she went off and came back around noon, to find him on the floor, still breathing but unable hear her. He had suffered a massive cerebral hemorrage. Not a bad way to go, all things considered, given, as she said that he had no desire to ever live in an assisted living center. The boys and their families are with Naomi now, and Hal was taken off life support systems earlier tonight. He will be missed by many more people than myself to whom he was first of all kind and courteous, and then whose medical problems he solved -- or to the medical students he taught over the years, many of whom practice with the same form of humanity as he did. I will especially miss the charming long narratives, wonderful stories he could tell, always with humor and an ear for the absurd.

Of him and his many kindnesses to her, my mother once said, "I think of Hal as a prince among men." She was right, and oh how we will miss him.