A Season for Impatience

First things first: 7.02 miles at a dead 12-minute pace. Not too shabby. Yeah, that’s a pretty slow pace. But that doesn’t mean my running isn’t progressing smoothly. I ran the whole thing, even the long ramp up from the Schuylkill River Trail to South Street. My feet might have been a little sore, but

Makin’ Them Gains

Well, here we are, entering the fourth week of the new year, and things seem to be going pretty well over here. Well, they’re okay. Better than last year, at least, and isn’t that something we can point to as progress? In case that sounds like I’ve made some kind of New Year’s resolution, I

Good Effort

It’s been almost three weeks since I transitioned back to living full-time in Philly, and while I’m glad to be here, it hasn’t exactly been seamless. There’s nothing serious, mind you. I’m not going out late at night, looking for booze or hard drugs or illegal street races or underground fighting pits. It’s not like

And Another Makes Three

Well, well, well. Would you look at that? Somehow, some way, it’s been three years since I started writing this blog. For three years, I’ve published something every week in this space, from long, two-part reflections on growing up Lutheran to short pieces about midwestern cooking, with a healthy sprinkling of paragraph-length apologias mixed in. 

Run Frank Run III: The Rerun

I’m 40, and that means something. Yes, more and more people say things like “40 is the new 30!” or “Age is just a number!” or “I’m not old, you’re old! Shut up and go to hell!” But the longer I spend in this (over)ripening body, the more I come to realize that age is

How Much Is Enough?

“Well, I gotta say,” Mike said one night as we were sitting around the table, “Frank and Katie, you guys look terrific.” I’m sure I blushed. They were the words I wanted to hear so badly, more than I’m comfortable admitting. As you may recall, several months ago I posted about my burgeoning weightlifting regimen.

Sandy Toes; or, The Prints of Tides

Well, here I am. After a couple weeks of shirking my writing duties (aside from lask week’s screed against that devil road, the Pennsylvania turnpike), I’m back home, ready to settle into the familiar patterns of daily life after a whirlwind of travel and friendship. Well, that’s not entirely true. I’m not looking to fall

Getting Up the Gumption

Sometimes I feel a little stuck. I’ve written this in my blog enough times by now that I wouldn’t blame you for tuning out. In post after post, I write about the times when I feel like I’m stuck in neutral, coasting through the calendar as time whooshes past, hours and days and months blowing

A Good Week for Writing

It was only a couple of weeks ago when I wrote about my goals, and how they weren’t producing the results I’d hoped. I realized that while I was checking off boxes every day, I wasn’t feeling fulfilled. I had constructed my daily routine to emphasize busy work, crowding out productive, useful effort. My end

The Perils of Being a Lister

For the longest time, I thought of myself as an easygoing guy. I would tell people I was up for anything, that I’d go with the flow, that I was happy to do what everyone else wants to do. Just let me know when and where, and I’ll be there, ready to get down or