- A coworker died.
- A "priority mail" package never arrived.
- A daughter's coach lost his wife and unborn child.
- And I ate rancid peanut butter. Yeah, I didn't know it could go bad, either -- let alone that it would take me half a sandwich to figure it out.
This weekend will be better. It has to be better.
I'm driving up to Lake San Marcos to help the marathon training program early Saturday morning, then seeing a new Disney-backed musical called Peter and the Starcatchers that night in La Jolla. Immediately after my long run Sunday a.m. we're heading with friends to the start of the final day of the Tour of California. And, soon after we return, I'll be warming up my potato skins and heading to an Oscar party. This is gonna be my year to win the grand prize for picking all winners, I just know it.