As I Hurdle Towards the Sweet Relief of Death.

I just had my 45th birthday.  At least I think it was my 45th.I Need This Car.

At this point, I’ve lost track.  And really don’t care.

My theory is any birthday from this point forward beats the alternative.

If I really think about it (and I try not to), my life is probably half over.

It’s probably more than half over, but I’ve convinced myself with advances in medicine, an occasionnal walk around the neighborhood, and only eating17 cookies instead of 21, I should live until at least 90.

Not that I want to be that old, but again it probably beats the alternative of a dirt nap.

Since the clock is ticking I should really get on with accomplishing something (anything) before it’s too late.

I shouldn’t waste my last few remaining good years watching TV, tweeting, mowing my yard, or even going to work.

I should be making the world a better place.

My time should be spent on charity work.  Traveling.  Maybe building a school for the less fortunate.

Meanwhile, I’m shuffling paperwork and worrying about mandated testing.

This doesn’t seem right.

I’m on the clock.  I have things I need to do.

And first on the list:  Mid-life crisis.

So if you need me, I’ll be driving way too fast in my brand new red convertible I can’t afford sporting a mustache and wearing a tight shirt unbuttoned two buttons lower than appropriate.

Once I get this phase out of my system, I can help build a school.

Or at least mow my yard.

*Note from editor in chief…aka…tech-geek wife or whatever it is you call me on this "blog"…ummmm…it’s 46 and no…just no…on the mustache and unbuttoned shirt that is…I am totally good with the brand new red convertible.  Maybe I am having a mid-life crisis too…after all I turned 39 this year.

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My Death is Near. Roughly 13.1 Miles Away.

A week from today I will run a half marathon.

Run is probably too strong of a word.

Crawl is probably far more appropriate (and I think you still get a medal).

As I’ve grown older, I have come to realize my time on Earth is limited.  Like all living creatures I am faced with my own mortality.

One day we are born.  One day we will die.

In between we deal with lots of crap at work.

So while it’s no surprise to me what the future holds, I have always assumed I would go out in a certain fashion.

A disease I can’t pronounce.

Being trampled in the hallway by a group of over-exuberant 1st graders.

Poisoned (I would name the possible suspects, but the list is far too long).

A victim of a beagle attack because I didn’t get him his precious bowl of dog food quickly enough (if I go out with paw prints on my throat… please have the FBI take a real hard look at Buddy the Dog).

Dying from shear boredom at a meeting (this may just be wishful thinking on my part).

Swimming lessons.

It’s hard to tell what will eventually get me, but it’s going to happen.

I just didn’t think it would come so soon.

But as fate would have it, my time here is coming to a close.

Seven short days from now I will line up with a group of strangers, a gun will go off, and about 2 hours and 30 minutes later I will die in a pool of my own sweat and tears.

Or at the very least I will wish I were dead  (please don’t judge me, there’s nothing wrong with a grown man sobbing as he tries to catch his breath as he lies face down in a gutter).

You may be asking, do I have any final thoughts?  Any last words of wisdom?  Some tidbit of guidance for new school administrators as I move on to nicer or hotter pastures.


I’ve got nothing, but troubles of my own.

But I do have a video that perfectly illustrates what I will be thinking as I run towards the bright light (jog… walk… crawl… limp… ride in a back of a medical golf cart… whatever).

My last hope is my pain brings the readers of this blog a moment or two of amusement.

Thank you for your support.  And please don’t feel sorry for me.

It’s been a good run (probably a bad choice of words).

I will see you at the finish line.  Or not.



My guess is runners will find this hilarious.  And non-runners will never take up running because of this.

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