Rick and I ran to the school and back. That's about 2.8 miles, I think. He hates it. He's in pretty good shape after football season, and he boxes 2 or 3 nights a week. I can't really say that I am running. I don't stop, but what I do is more like a cross between falling down and shuffling. I look like I've been shot in the gut.

On the bright side, my German Shepherd is digging it - she is prodding me to go each morning now.