I got an email this morning announcing hat the San Francisco Marathon is 38 days away. I wasn’t running it this year but couldn’t if I wanted to. I’m still waiting to get an MRI to see why I can barely walk. But I immediately thought: “I’m running that next year”. And I might be a little fucked up right now to the point of a lady comparing my cane to her grandma’s but I’m still a runner. So yeah, San Francisco. Next year. 2019. That will be my year.