Thanksgiving 2000 - 11:51 a.m.

I ran-walked the five-mile Boulevard Bolt this morning, finishing in just under an hour - which puts me somewhere in the top 4500, I think. Out of 5100 or so, that is, but I wasn't trying - hadn't trained - it was just fun being out with the runners and the walkers and the long-haired Doberman puppy (and lots of other doggies), as well as three Kroger guys freezing in their tees and paper chef hats (or were those giant turkey frills?), race volunteers wearing velveteen turkey-feather headbands, and a perambulating eight-foot tall ear of corn. I was also amused by the two stone eagles guarding one of the mansions on the way to starting line, as they were sporting Bolt t-shirts. It was cold and sunny and it felt great to be out and moving.

And now it feels good to be clean and warm in my fleece vest and fuzzy slippers, and looking forward to dressing up for dinner tonight and meeting new friends, after an afternoon of napping and writing letters...

Dear weaver of our lives' design whose patterns all obey,
with skillful fingers gently guide
the sturdy threads that will survive
the tangle of our days.

Take up the fabric of our lives with hands that gently hold;
Bind in the ragged edge that care
would sunder and that pain would tear,
and mend our rav'ling souls.

Let eyes that in the plainest cloth a hidden beauty see
Discern in us our richest hues,
Show us the patterns we may use
to set our spirits free.

---from Singing the Living Tradition