January 3, 2013
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“Write a short essay,” my English teacher told us, “five books that changed my life.”
“It’s time,” my wife will say, and we exchange grim nods before I rise. It is then, with a loaded sigh, that I forsake couch, ballgame and the comforts of suburban life to don the attire of a killer. In dark jeans, long-sleeved shirt and covered shoes—three of them—I pause at the patio door.
As spring approaches, you’ll see a lot more runners dotting the sidewalks and parks. My admiration goes not to the lean, sinewy ones running in top-of-the-line gear, but to the bulbous newcomers, puffing along because this is the day they wouldn’t put off.
If Baseball Were Like Conservative Politics …