Workout 1. A bit over 8 miles in VF. 6:50s. Easy. Workout 2. 4 miles dread in 30 mins. Easy 300 crunches. 12 miles in doubles = 78 cumulative for the week. Resting up for the Broad Street 10 miler on Sunday. ------------------------------- Linda Tripp on this..... My first experiences as a FREElance writer entailed approaching a disinterested electronics store employee, who was leaning against a table full of ipods, and asking him how to best tape record telephone conversations. This question probably always gets people to stop leaning on anything and to look around cautiously before answering; which is what he did. --------------------- Maybe putting a Nix on the recordings....FREElancing Catholic guilt trips for no reason. Part 2. Radioshack. FREElance writer and daughter enter store. Clerk appears from the backroom where all things seem to come from at the 'Shhhhhhhack Clerk, pointing to a black cord while wearing a Lando Calrissian ear thing: You need this adapter to record conversations. Me: So I don't need an old fashioned phone then? Clerk: What's an old fashioned phone? Me: One with cords. Clerk: No, you put this on the base station and you should be all set. Me: Thanks, I'll take it. Clerk clears his throat and peers down behind his glasses: Ahem, sir, I must first read you this statement before you purchase the adapter. You need to say "I will" at the end of it. Clerk pulls book out from behind counter and reads from it, following along with his finger like a priest reading from a wedding hymnal: "According to the laws of this state, all phone conversations require prior consent from both parties. Will you comply with this?" Me, stoically, looking into the clerk's eyes: I will Clerk hands me the adapter and I start to walk out, but I make the following statement: You know I'm just interviewing a runner, Dan Browne, that's all I need it for. Clerk: Sure, I see. I get lots of people that need these things for various reasons. Me: Yeah, well I'll follow the law, and it's just a harmless interview you know. Clerk: Have a nice day sir. ----------------------------------------------- In case you haven't figured it out yet, my parents have given me most of our family slides in digital format. This picture above depicts the largest fish that I've ever caught. It was a lake trout that was fished from the first five feet of the private dock at Donner Lake in the Sierras. There's no River Runs Through It story about ghosts in the water and the coming of age, all underneath the hulking backdrop of Donner Pass; I caught it with an Ugly Stick baitcaster and a flashy luer that I bought in one of those bait shops that sell enormous hooks with pictures of 1940s guys in 1940s attire, holding stringers full of enormous fish. The best part of the story is probably how much of a surprise this fish was both to me and to my family. I used to be the only Larkin kid that would get up early--just to get up early--and walk down to the dock throwing my line out into the still water only to come back with nothing. It used to be so bad that my father felt sorry for me one year and took me to a trout pond where anything remotely resembling anything aquatic hanging off an impossibly large hook will yield a farmed, starved fish. The other half of my fishing stories before this fish were all about snags, thrown pieces of reel into the lake, and the accidental catching of ducks. So you can imagine the surprise when I walked into our vacation rental with this guy. Like most things fishing, despite the bullshit TV shows on OLN, the fish came to me and let itself be caught. I had chanced upon a school of enormous lake trout that were cruising the shore early that summer morning. Their scales glimmered in the crystal clear waters of Donner Lake. The school was so big that the entire section of the dock was shining and flashing with gargantuan trout that usually belong deep and safe in the cold middle of the lake--left only to be harvested by the rich guys in the boats with their fish finders and their thousand dollar downriggers. So I threw the best luer I had out into the glistening lake. A strike from a fish that size in the hands of someone used to strikes from fish so small was quite a shock. There was no setting the hook and no playing line out--Hemingway style. I had a Raleys pole with a Raleys reel so when he was on, I was reeling desperately and quickly, thinking of all the things I'd tell the slumbering Doubting Thomas' back home: those folks, my family, behind the four walls and the locked doors. I had to get him in; stories about near-misses wouldn't fly with my anti-St. Peter track record. There are only a few moments in our lives where we get to shine--where everything comes together and weaves itself into a thread of tangible magic. The magic returns only when our memory is triggered from a picture or a word or a gesture: something. This was one of my moments to shine. Every time we'd have a family slideshow, I'd make my parents pause on this picture. I'd walk up to the wall and put my finger up next to the fish, tapping the wall next to the young boy in his frozen moment of hubris; I'd turn around, looking back into the blinding light of the slide projector and tell everyone--over the throttling rattle of the projector's fan--that no one ever thought I could catch a fish this big. You all doubted me. I've always looked back on this magical moment and have reflected often on its lessons, especially as regards to running. The constant drumbeat of these same lessons pound away day after day; they will until I die; they are a part of my very being: -Nothing is impossible; never sell yourself and your abilities short. -Getting up early, walking to the dock, and throwing line out into the water over and over again is sometimes all it takes. If you come up short, you still rose before everyone else. You got to see a part of the world that few see--that only the persistent and the dedicated see. You existed out on those hairy edges, where real beauty lies. -One day you'll get that chance to cast it all out into the sea of glimmering possibilities and walk home with the trophy to disprove the naysayers. -The world is divided into the embarrassed realists and the silly idealists, those afraid to think big because big may never happen and those unafraid to think big because big can't happen without dreams. Someone recently made fun of me because I called Brian Sell my 'hero.' He scoffed at the remark and dismissed it, saying that his heroes aren't runners--especially men younger than himself. I don't know who his heroes are; I hope he has some. I'll always be a dreamer and will gladly take the arrows from the short-sighted realists who stive for mediocrity because greatness is too silly to admit. -------------------------------- If you are a recent Chilli Pepper fan like I am (Californication forward), you are sure to like their new album. You can listen to it for free streaming off of VH1's site.