Forlorn.  

That's the best word to describe my emotions as I sit at 8th & Roast on a Friday morning, sipping my coffee, watching the baristas take down the Christmas decorations.  It's sad, but necessary, as today is January 2 and the holidays are over.  Finito.  It's time.

I have so enjoyed the Christmas decorations, here, at 8th & Roast, this holiday season.  An artificial Christmas tree that, even now, is being stuffed back into the long rectangular shaped box it will rest in for the next 11 months, in a closet in the back.  Red Santa hats and outfits cleverly placed on the figures in the coffee photographs on the wall.  Christmas lights, everywhere, throughout the coffee shop.  And, my favorite, the two miniature town scenes in the center of the two bigger, community tables, complete with cars, Christmas trees, streetlights, and people, all on a bed of pretend snow.  

As 8th & Roast improbably became my new morning coffee spot the past couple of months, it has been nice to relax for a few minutes, and read or write, among the Christmas decorations.  'Tis the season.  Or, at least, 'tis was the season.  Sigh.

For once, I have managed to stay away from the office, for the most part, over the holidays.  It was easier this year because of how the holidays fell.  Christmas Eve and Christmas, New Year's Eve and New Year's Day, on Wednesday and Thursday.  That made it easier to take last Friday off.  I needed some down time, I think.  I was feeling a little burned out at work toward the end of the year.

Today, however, I am headed into the office.  Time to get back after it.  

The boys return to school on Tuesday, so they have one more long weekend to relax.  Then, for them, too, it is back to the grind.  Jude, too, as she has been off work entirely over the holidays, which has been nice.

Hopefully, running more and longer will get me through the winter months.  That and lots of reading and family time.  

Goodbye, for now, to my favorite time of year, October 1 - January 1.  Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's.  Fall.  All over.

Yep, I am forlorn this morning.  

Back to Shelby Bottoms

After 163 three mile runs in 2025, I started 2026 with a 5-miler on the trails at Shelby Bottoms, my favorite place to run when I am home.  I haven't run five miles in, well, over a year.  Still, I felt great, and I loved every step of the run.  8:18 pace, which is fast for the trails (grass and gravel, not paved). 

The temperature was in the low 50's - beautiful for January 1 in Nashville.  Cloudless blue skies.  It would be hard for me to dream up a more perfect day to run five miles.  What a way to start my running in 2026, the year I turn 60.  

Over the years, I have unquestionably run long at Shelby Bottoms more than anywhere else.  I know the trails like my own backyard.  I miss the old Cornelia Fort Trail terribly but after the most recent tornado, the trail was never cleared and, now, it has disappeared from view.  Still, I love running on the trails, which are off the beaten path, fairly deserted, and sequestered from the many cyclists flying up and down the greenway (paved trail).  

It's peaceful on the trails at Shelby Bottoms.  Beautiful, too, throughout the year.  Now, with the leaves fallen from the trees, the Cumberland River is visible at various points along the trails.  I'll take Shelby Park over Percy Warner Park or Edwin Warner Park any day.  Less crowded, by far.  More scenic.  Plus, I love East Nashville.  

If I can stay healthy, and I hope I can, I am going to try to pick up the mileage a bit this year by adding runs longer than three miles to my repertoire.  I want to start running long again, too.  It's time to return to the church of the long run.  

I do not take any of this for granted.  At 59, being able to run consistently is a blessing, especially for me.  Being able to run three miles (and, I suspect, more) at an 8:00 pace, like I did yesterday on my run at Harlinsdale Farm, is a bonus.  It was nice to feel strong and fast the last three months of 2025.  My running peaked in November and December 2025, which was cool.  

When I am locked in with running, like I am now, I find myself thinking about when, where, and how far I am going to run next.  It's like an itch that I need to scratch.  I think about my schedule - work and family - and how I can work in a run.  I think about how many miles I have run in a week, for the month, and for the year, especially when I have a goal I am trying to meet.  It drives me, this feeling that I need to run.  That I have to run.  I love it.   

I hope to run more with JP in 2026 than I did in 2025.  He runs at a different level than I do, obviously.  I don't to interfere with his training by persuading him to run with the old man.  Still, I think we can work a few runs in together.  

Today, JP did a workout at MBA with Sam Trumble and two of his teammates from the Kansas University track team.  It is nice for him to have the opportunity to work out with college runners.   

I am also going to get Joe out to run with me more, like I did last weekend.  Not because I want him to run competitively.  It's not his thing, which is totally fine.  However, I want him to enjoy running recreationally because it will give him self-confidence, fitness, and balance in his life.  Running will help him relieve stress.  

In the end, my goal for JP and Joe is the same.  I want them to enjoy a lifetime of running recreationally.  For themselves because running will make them more patient, more relaxed, more balanced, more self-confident and self-reliant, better friends, better sons, better husbands, and better fathers.  

Running has given me so much.  Everything, really.  I want the boys to have that, too.

Scenes after yesterday's end of the year (2025) run to Harlinsdale Farm in Franklin.

(January 1, 2026 - Haraz)

Resolutions

Every year, I find myself struggling on December 31, as I try to come up with a worthy New Year's resolution.  What can I give up - for a year - that's doable, yet meaningful.  I never seem to put enough thought into it and, because I wait until the last minute, it's difficult to find a New Year's resolution that feels right to me.

In 2025, I tried something different that worked for me.  Every month, I gave up something or make it a point to do something that would add value to my life or to others' lives, or both.  In a way, I made monthly resolutions rather than a single New Year's resolution.  I think I'm going to do it again in 2026.

What I liked about it was the variety.  I also liked the shorter time period for each resolution.  It kept things interesting for me.  It challenged me in different ways, too, throughout the year.  As the saying goes, variety is the spice of life.  

In no particular order, below are some of the things I gave ups, or added, one month at a time.  Some of these I did in combination in a particular month.

• No alcohol.  It was much easier than I thought it would be.  Actually, I'm going to do dry January in 2026, too.  I'm looking forward to it.

• Run three miles or on days when I don't run, walk for at least 45 minutes.  That's a fun one, as I discovered I really enjoyed walking in the neighborhood at night as I listened to a podcast.  Sometimes, I walked on days when I already had run. I'll likely do this one again in 2026.  

• Read a philosophy, self-help, or business book for 30 minutes a day.  I did this for a month in 2024, too, and for the first time, I found that I liked those type of books.  That's a keeper, too, due to be repeated in 2026.

• Telephone someone every day I haven't talked to in a while.  This one was special for obvious reasons.  Worthwhile, too, for so many reasons.

• No chewing gum.  Weird but true.

• No sugar or processed foods (or at least drastically reduced processed foods), which meant I stayed away from nutrition bars. 

• No social media.  That one, too, was easier than I thought it would be.  Rewarding, too.

• I kept a gratitude journal, so to speak.  In the notes on my phone, I typed in one thing a day that I was grateful for.  This was cathartic but I wasn't disciplined enough to do it every day for 30 days, which  is weird, when you think about how little time it takes to type in a quick note of gratitude.  I think I need to do it the same time every day.

• I tried to read the Bible readings from the Catholic iMissal app on my phone every day.  That didn't work out too well, either.  

• No swearing.  I failed miserably on that one.  

• Coffee once a day, not twice.

• I can't remember exactly what I did but one month, I listened to Bishop (Robert) Barron's podcast, Word on Fire, regularly.  I think I tried, but failed, to listen to it daily on any drive to work. 

This year, I'm going to keep a list of what I'm doing each month, or what I've just done.  I don't think I want to make the list ahead of time.  But, at the beginning of each month, I want to write down what I'm trying to do. 

If I'm brave enough, I may give give up coffee entirely for a month.  I also want to try to answer (or at least read) every e-mail, every day, for a month.  I'd like to not get angry, or frustrated, for a month.  I'd like to try to eat only fruit or vegetables in between meals for a month.  I need to take a month where I take my health seriously by getting a physical examination, etc.   

I'm still working on what my running goal will be for 2026.  

Christmas Presence

This is the time of year when I miss my mom the most.  She loved the holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas, and the way they always seemed to bring the family together.  

As times passes, I realize more and more that my mom was a connector.  

From the early days of the internet and e-mail (and before), she was one of the people that kept her Jackson High School (Jackson, TN) classmates  in in touch with each other.  She kept the lines of communication open and always was in the middle of the high school reunion planning.

My mom was the same way with her nursing school basketball teammates, as she hosted an annual chili dinner at our house in conjunction with the Vanderbilt-Tennessee women's basketball game at Memorial Gymnasium.  She worked with Coach Jim Stockdale to purchase a block of tickets for the game, too.  On several occasions, there were as a many people - former teammates, husbands, and children - sitting in the seats she purchased for the game.  She worked tirelessly, with others, to see that Coach Stockdale was properly honored with an endowed scholarships (UT Women's School of Nursing and UT Lady Vols Basketball) for his many contributions as coach for 26 years of the University of Tennessee School of Nursing women's basketball team.

Growing up, it seemed my mom was forever hosting summer picnics, Vanderbilt basketball watch parties for family and friends, and organizing dinners for her friends at Sportsman's Grille.  

Closer to home, literally, my mom insisted that our extended family get together at her house for Thanksgiving and Christmas Day.  She was the matriarch of our family in all the best ways.  She loved nothing more than seeing that everyone had enough to eat when we celebrated Thanksgiving at her house, long before she made herself a plate.  I can still see her on Christmas Day, in the playroom at her house, smiling happily as she sat in the midst of uncontrolled chaos of four generations of family opening up presents the same time.  She always protested half-heartedly as wadded up balls of wrapping paper flew threw the air and hit an unwitting cousin in the side of the head.  

My mom always talked to all of us regularly, most often about our children, Vanderbilt sports, or whatever topic Kevin Ingram, Frank Wychek, and Mark Howard (the morning show) or George Plaster, Willy Daunic, and Darren McFarland (the afternoon show) had covered on sports talk radio that day.  Always staying connected.  

Since she died almost six years ago, my family has drifted apart to some extent which, I guess, is to be expected.  Fewer get togethers and rarely with our cousins involved.  Not as many telephone calls.  Covid-19 created a bad habit of not gathering tougher as a family, which is hard to break, I think.  Everyone coming and going.  Busy living life.  

I do miss my acutely this time of year, though.  Her laugh.  How we teased each other.  Her wisdom.  Most of all, her unwavering love and support for me.  

Merry Christmas, Mom.  I love you.

The Road to 156

As a dedicated runner for almost four decades, I am always looking for something to motivate me, day to day, month to month, and year to year, to get out and run.  You know, on those days when I am tired, too busy, or not feeling my best, it's helpful to having something in the back of my mind that convinces me to lace up my running shoes, get out the door, and go for a run.

Last December, I decided I would set a goal of 156 three miles runs in 2025.  No runs longer than three miles, which meant no long runs.  That was different for me, to be sure, because I am a faithful member of the Church of the Long Run.  Running consistently requires discipline.  Running only three miles, 156 times, necessarily required a different kind of discipline.  To be fair, it also took some of the pressure off insofar as I did not have to find the time or energy to run long.  It was nice, even reassuring, for me to know that every run in 2025 could be completed in under 30 minutes.  

In the past, my annual goals have been based on total mileage, the number of runs, or both.  I have run 1,000 miles in a year, most recently in 2020 (1,025), the year I outran Covid-19.  I have run 200 times in in year.  As I have gotten older, I have stopped racing as much and it's been years since I have run a half-marathon.  I will be 60 years old (yikes!) in July and I do not see another marathon on my horizon.  Maybe a half-marathon but not a marathon.  

As I guess is probably true with all dedicated runners, I tend to become obsessed with an annual goal.  It's not so much that I think about it all of the time.  Rather, it's always in the back of my mind.  How many runs do I have this month?  How many runs do I have for the year?  Am I ahead or behind?  I think about those type of things every day.  As such, it's party of why an annual goal works so well for me.  It creates an itch, a pleasant one, that I scratch by going for a run.  It's always been that way for me.

While I am proud of what I accomplished as a runner in 2025, I understand it was not an overly ambitious goal.  For me, though, that was the point.  I wanted to have a year where I enjoyed the simple act of running without worrying about annual milage or getting a long run in at some point during the week.  My running in 2025 was about staying healthy, being consistent, avoiding injury, and enjoying being a runner.  

I ran on treadmills at the YMCA (Downtown, Green Hills, and Franklin) more than I had in the past, at least since Go Performance and Fitness in Cummins Station closed during the pandemic.  I ran a multitude of three miles routes in the neighborhood, often ending with coffee at Barista Parlor in the Village (like today), 8th and Roast, Buck Mason, Hearts, Frothy Monkey, or Honest Coffee Roasters and a relaxing walk home.  I ran after work in downtown Franklin, to Harlinsdale Park and back.  I ran a time or two at Shelby Bottoms, a place where I want to get back to running more in 2026.  I ran in Sewanee.  I ran in Santa Rosa Beach, Florida.  I ran with JP, although not as much as I would have liked. 

I listened to podcasts while I ran.  Bill Simmons.  The Press Box.  Plain English.  WTF.  Zach Lowe.  The Daily.  This American Life.  The Ezra Klein Show.  The Rewatchables.  Interesting Times.  Ringer Tailgate.  In terms of music, I listened to John Hiatt several times while I ran.

I ran 156 times, three miles every time. 

Toward the end of the year, before I caught my annual sinus infection, my speed picked up considerably.  I ran three miles, easily, at under 8:10 per mile, something I have not done regularly in a while.  I felt strong and healthy, which was awesome.  

Running is such an important part of my life.  In fact, running is the essence of who I am as a person.  I am so blessed to be healthy enough to run consistently at age 59.  

Every run is a gift.

    

Christmas and a Head Cold

After managing not to get sick for the entire year after I had Covid-19 last January, I caught something earlier this week.  Jude's guess is that the people coughing behind us during Prairie Home Companion at the Ryman on Monday night infected me.  Laughing, I suggested maybe Garrison Keillor gave me something since we were sitting in the third row, dead center, and my mouth was open in sheer joy for most of the show.  I know not but here I am, under the weather.

I began to feel a head cold coming on mid-week and by Friday, I felt terrible.  Still, I gutted out a mediation - the case settled because the attorneys were so good to work with - and I came home and when straight to bed after a large bowl of chicken and rice soup from International Market.  My favorite.  I slept fitfully and I've been tired all day.  I skipped a family outing to see the Predators play the red hot Toronto Maple Leafs tonight because I don't want to make anyone else sick.

Things could be worse, though.  I was able to run three miles this afternoon in the neighborhood, albeit more slowly than normal.  In my relative, high mileage youth, I used to run through head colds and sinus infections all the time, with the idea that I would just sweat the sickness out of me.  I tested negative for Covid-19 tonight, which was a relief.  I wasn't looking forward to becoming a four time loser.  

At present, I'm having a bourbon as I sit in a camping chair on our unfinished but soon to be screened in deck.  It's quite the project, for sure.  It's long overdue, though, and will be awesome when it's completed in a few weeks.  It's a ton of added space.  We're going to put a ping pong table out here, which I know all of us will enjoy.  The plan is to add a flat screen television, too, so we can watch football and baseball games in the fall and spring.  Jude's taken the point on the entire project and I'm grateful for that.  She's wanted a screen in deck for a long time and I'm happy she's going to have one soon.

Christmas is upon us, although the temperature today hit the low '60's.  My Christmas cards have been out for a couple of weeks, believe it or not.  I still have a some Christmas shopping to do, although I think I'm in pretty decent shape there, too.  I spent an hour + tonight in the guest room opening boxes from Amazon and other places, as almost all of my Christmas shopping to date has been done online.  It's convenient, I guess, but it's so much easier to spend money and not realize it.  Point the mouse, click, and soon enough, an Amazon box arrives at our doorstep.

JP and Joe were so relieved to finish exams.  JP, in particular, had his ass kicked, I believe, by a couple of his more difficult classed.  I worry sometimes that he's not enjoying high school as much as I would like for him to because his class load is so heavy.  He's so busy.  I hope he's taking the time to slow down, occasionally, and enjoy himself.  He's been spending time with a young lady that Jude and I are very fond of and that makes us happy.  It's strange to think that JP has three more semesters of high school left, then off he'll go to college.  Very strange, actually.

As I left the Belmont women's basketball game vs. Duke to day - they got smoked by Kara Lawson's Blue Devils - I looked around and, as is so often the case when I'm on campus, I saw ghosts everywhere.  The ghosts of JP and Joe, very young boys a decade or so ago, and a much younger me, too.  We spent so much time on campus when they were little.  

In the atrium outside the Curb Center, where the giant Christmas tree is now, Joe and I used to play (Nerf) football in the mornings before I took him to Children's House.  Today, I could almost see him chasing me after I passed the ball to myself and ran for a touchdown.  "Blue 49, Red 13, Green 24," and off I'd go, with Joe close behind me, both of us laughing.  

JP and I used to hang out in the Student Center upstairs, adjacent to the Curb, and pretend like we were in college.  He has such an active imagination which I, of course, encouraged.  Almost every night after dinner, I would take JP to Belmont while Jude fed Joe, who was still and infant.  Those were good, innocent days and I long for them sometimes.  Many times, actually.   

Before too long, I guess, Christmas will be a time when Jude and I get the boys back a home for a couple of weeks.  Then, inevitably, we'll get them for a few nights, then maybe not at all after they have kids.  Time sure gets by you, doesn't it?

   

Cooper the Elf and the Ghost of Christmas Past

For so many years, one of the highlights of our family's Christmas season was the return of Cooper the Elf, named by Joe long ago after JP's friend, Cooper Allen.  Always, Joe was so excited when Cooper returned on the first or second night of December, perched in our Christmas tree.  Every morning leading up to Christmas, Joe scoured the house to see where Cooper had ended up after a night spent, presumably, wandering through the house and, maybe, other houses, too.  Jude and I reveled in Joe's delight every morning when he found Cooper, tucked away in a clever hiding place.  

In many ways, the arrival of Cooper the Elf signified that Christmas season was upon us.  I love this time of year so much.  As I've written here before, it's always hard to say goodbye to Cooper the Elf, when he leaves our house and flies back to the North Pole, usually with the boys' Christmas lists in hand.  

For the past couple of years, things have been different.  This year, for example, Joe noted Cooper the Elf's return but, really, that was about it.  No more looking for Cooper in the morning before breakfast.  No more laughing about the clever hiding place Cooper had found the night before.  I understand, of course.  Joe has school assignments, study sessions, and 7th grade exams to worry about, which doesn't leave a lot of head space for Cooper the Elf.

Still, I miss those days terribly.  That's the hardest part of being a parent for me, I think.  Constantly saying goodbye to so many things that I love and that have been such an important and joyful part of my life. 

Walks in the neighborhood with one of the boys sleeping in the City Elite stroller before 12South became 12South.  Singing the Uncle Carley song to Carley when she arrived, much to Joe's delight, in the morning to stay with him for the day.  Dropping JP and, later, Joe, off at Children's House.  Watching Sid the Science Kid with JP and Daniel Tiger with Joe.  "Joe time" in the mornings before school at Children's House, which often involved playing football in the atrium at the Curb Center.  Coaching baseball.  Playing Battleship with Joe at Frothy Monkey or Burger Up.  Driving JP to MBA.  Going for a run with JP.  

All of it.  I loved every single minute of in, including and especially Cooper the Elf's arrival every Christmas season and his presence as the boys counted down the days to Christmas.  

I find myself, this morning, thinking of the lyrics from "Puff the Magic Dragon," by Peter, Paul & Mary.  My sister, Tracy, used to cry when my mom played the song (probably on 8 track if not vinyl).  

A dragon lives forever, but not so little boys

Painted wings and giant's rings make way for other toys

One gray night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more 

And Puff, that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar

His head bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain

Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane

Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave

So Puff, the mighty dragon, sadly slipped into his cave

For this Christmas season, at least, I'll enjoy seeing where Cooper the Elf ends up each morning.  More importantly, I'll also enjoy having both of my boys, together, with Jude and me, in the house as JP's high school career winds down and he prepares to leave for college in 18 months.  

Welcome home, Cooper.