Cold hands

This past Monday my grandmother, Rhoda Hinckley, passed away, just before her 87th birthday. It was a sad to see her pass away but during the weeks prior, her quality of life had rapidly deteriorated. Doctors had discovered and closed a breach in her large intestine and she was facing the unpalatable prospects of rehabilitation and assisted lifting. More than a week ago, Dad said that he had held her hand and that it was cold, a dire sign. As the cold hand indicated, Grandma was on her way out of this world, throwing off this "mortal coil." I'll miss her greatly yet I know that she is in a better place. I have fond memories of the Sunday evening slideshows, birthday parties, and summer reunions with the cousins at her Newport Hills home. Here is in an old photo of us young 'uns on big wheels before dashing down the hill into the backward (I am the second from the right).

Continuing the theme of cold hands, I've begun my training for the Grandma's Marathon in Duluth, MN on June 19th. A difficult endeavor already, it is even more daunting when you are faced with the prospect of running 15 miles in -6 F weather like yesterday morning. However, I was unfazed and simply wore more layers of everything, including gloves. Two pairs of gloves didn't take the bite out of the cold during the first 30 minutes but once the temperature rose above zero, I was more comfortable. By the end of my run, my neck warmer than I wore over my mouth had frozen and little icicles hung from my eyebrows and eyelashes. Nevertheless, I had never felt more alive. Lest I scare you away from running with my masochistic

you should read the article "The Hidden Benefits of Exercise" in the Wall Street Journal. It can be found here. I can attest to all of the benefits mentioned therein.