About 10 years ago, my super strong, super athletic, super handsome, super smart, super awesome father noticed a tremor. That tremor was the beginning of Parkinson’s Disease. Maybe from being a multi sport letterman in high school, or All-American football player in college, or his semi pro football years. Maybe from summers working on the family farm in upstate New York, maybe from pesticides pruning roses for estates while in Seminary. I suppose it doesn’t really matter how or why. It is our reality. I started to run to honor him. I run because he can’t. I didn’t run today. I feel bad about it but i’m tired.

Dad’s constant shaking is exhausting. Disease sucks. It’s depressing.

Attitude is everything.

Tell yourself the end is near and it will be. Tell yourself its not going to get better and it won’t. Surround yourself with negative people and you’ll become a negative person. This is not rocket science, people.

But it’s ok to be sad sometimes.

I can be a wallower. There’s something about feeling sorry for yourself that feels kind of good. So go ahead and watch a Friends marathon in your 1990 Gap sweats (like i’m doing right now) eating popcorn wondering if Joey could really be THAT good in the sack. (I think Ross would be better – did you see him in Band of Brothers??? and you know Phoebe is a freak.)

Netflix and chocolate were invented for these kinds of days.

Just don’t wallow for too long.

It’s not a good look.

Shake it off. Tomorrow is a new day.

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