I've had a couple of magic marathons. My training was solid, I felt confident, and everything went amazingly on race day--strong finishes, even paces, big smiles.

I've also had a couple of just fine marathons. I ran within my fitness and felt pretty good.

And then, there have been a few really hard-fought marathons. My stomach got messed up, my legs dragged more than they should have. I ran through a dark night of the soul to get to the finish line.

This last weekend's marathon was one of the hard-fought ones. After 16 or 17 pretty good miles, I started cramping in my feet and legs. My stomach hurt. I narrowed my focus to one foot in front of the other. About three miles from the finish line, I reminded myself that if I dropped out, I'd have to go home and tell my children that I didn't finish the race because, in the end, I just didn't feel like it.

That's not really the message I've been trying to impart to my kids about sticking with the hard things. I've been more on the "try your best and accept your failures" train lately. I've ridden the "don't give up" car. So, one foot in front of the other, right? There really wasn't a choice.

Eventually, I got to the end and meandered through the finish area. Only one volunteer asked if I needed the medical tent. I made it to the light rail train, which I planned to ride back home. This was harrowing because of my stomach situation, but you'll be happy to know I held off the sickness. When I arrived at the homestead, I burst in the door. Shef stood to give me a hug, and I ducked under his arm and headed for the powder room. On the way, I accidentally yakked on the kitchen floor.

That's the kind of day it was. I pointed at the vomit and told Dan, "I didn't make it." It's true I didn't make it in that one instance, but in the "finish the marathon" sense, I did make it. I just didn't make it look pretty.

I'm really relieved to note that July has been a big reading month. Before I posted the big number (7 finished so far), I was mildly concerned that I wouldn't meet my 52-book quota.

As you know, I prefer to accomplish all my goals, leaving no to-do list item unchecked. I did remind myself, however, that I'm just doing 52 books this year, and not 57 or 64 or 75; so being "on track," or one or two books ahead of schedule according to Goodreads is totally fine and not behind.

Even if I'm not in danger of failing to hit the magic number, I did discover, however, that I'm woefully behind in certain categories. For instance, I've only finished 8 works on nonfiction. Similarly, it's go-time on children's and YA. I've only finished 5! That's totally unlike me, and I feel a little deficient, a little less-than, a little inferior at being a literacy educator for young people. Plus, I can hardly recommend a top five come year-end without reading at least 15 of a given genre.

I'm glad I stopped to assess. My priorities are now clear. Children's and YA and nonfiction. And, let's be honest, some adult fiction because I can't help it.

Now we know.

Today, I'll review the chapter entitled "Inner Censor" on pages 12-15 of Dani Shapiro's book, Still Writing: The Perils and Pleasures of a Creative Life.  Shapiro's premise is that a devious hater sits on her left shoulder and tries to make her give up writing and feel terrible about herself.  That little wench is named "Inner Censor," or I.C.  In Brené Brown's book, the I.C. splits into a polymorphous crowd of misery called The Gremlins. Elizabeth Gilbert calls them just plain FEAR in Big Magic.

Not surprisingly, all of these writers suggest we flick away the despair carried in by anthropomorphized self-doubt and carry on with our creative lives. Dip your toe into the stream, Shapiro urges.  "[F]eel the rush of words there," she continues. "Words that are like a thousand silvery minnows, below the surface, rushing by. If I don't capture them, they will be lost."

I mean, duh.

What kind of self-help book would encourage you to just flipping give up?  But, I guess the reminder serves.  It's nice to know, I guess, that professional, published writers who have books instead of niche, unsponsored, unfamous blogs also struggle daily to just keep going.  I mean.  I guess.  Lee's got some Shapiro on her blog today too, FYI.  Check it OUT.

Today I'm naming my favorite five nonfiction books I read this year.  I read 23 books of nonfiction, up from 15 last year.  Here are the best five in alphabetical order by author:

In the last few days of 2015, I'm going to re-cap my year in reading.  This was the second year I resolved to read 52 books.  I love this resolution, and I plan to continue it indefinitely.  It's a major life-brightener.

I'm afraid this wildly popular feature will have to be posted tomorrow.  We're just home from a 10 hour drive from Ann Arbor, Michigan, and I just can't fiction right now.

Fortunately, I've been inundated with requests to tell about the fine city on the east of the Midwest that we just visited.  Here's the story: Ann Arbor is a fun college town with some beautiful buildings.  We toured the law school (gorgeous, and the library was a finalist to stand-in for the Great Hall in Harry Potter), the business school where Uncle Shea studies about making money (modern and very hip), and the School of Social Work, which is slightly nicer than Peik Hall at the University of Minnesota.  Peik is where I did My Stupid Master’s Degree™ and it's not nice at all.  The University of Michigan School of Social Work has a study area, at least.  And probably well-stocked vending machines.  Here's a pattern I've noticed: If the alumni of a certain School don't tend to make a lot of money, said School is not that impressive to tour.  Just saying.



There's some cool public art at Michigan like The Cube.  It's a sculpture you can push and spin.  And there's a very good deli that President Obama himself has frequented.  It's called Zingerman's.  It pays the employees a livable wage and everything.  We also visited the University's Archeology Museum which wasn't such a huge hit with the boys.  We did, however, see mummy sandals and Mac showed off Egyptology knowledge gleaned from The Magic Treehouse series.

Something we learned is that Ann Arbor has a high cost of living.  Also, Sister Mary and Partner Shea have tired of the cold weather.  Finally, the stadium (The Big House)  holds 110,000 people, which is more people than the population of Ann Arbor.

If you have an occasion to visit Ann Arbor, I recommend the Holiday Inn Express and Suites.  I give the city 3.5 stars.  Not as cool as other college towns like Bloomington, IN and Madison, WI, to which I assign more stars.

I hope this review was helpful to you.

For the last few days of 2014, I'm going to re-cap my year in reading.  As I've mentioned before, I loved my New Year's Resolution to read 52 books.  I loved it so much, I'm doing it again.  It's the best resolution I've ever had.

So far, I've read 57 books.  I include in this total the 20 books I've listened to.  In fact, some of the audio books - the details stay with me so clearly, even more brightly than the books I've read with my eyes.

For my first re-cap, I'm going to provide a list of the best audio books I've listened to this year.  The Top 5 with brief descriptions.  Here they are!  In alphabetical by author:


We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves by Karen Joy Fowler.  Read by Orlagh Cassidy. The story is addictive.  Well-meaning parents raise their infant daughter and adopted chimpanzee daughter as twins.  Later, when the chimp is clearly not human (read: destructive, dangerous), they disappear her from their children's lives.  Fern is gone.  Everyone is very different going forward.


Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand.  Read by Edward Hermann.    Okay, I'm not a big non-fiction reader, but this book held me spellbound.  By now, everyone's heard of the story of Louie Zamperini, the Olympic runner-turned serviceman who survives a horrific plane crash, endless days at sea in a rubber life raft, and years in a Japanese POW camp.  Ed Hermann's warm narration in a voice I know so well from Gilmore Girls gave the story immediacy.




A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki.  Read by the author.  I've never read anything like this.  Two stories intersect - the story of a teenaged Japanese girl and the story of the middle-aged woman who finds the former's diary on a beach in Canada.  Somehow, they actually affect one another across time and space - influencing each other by a kind of cosmic magic.  Mind-bending and reassuring.  Basically, fabulous.