My boys are fascinated with money. Just yesterday, one of them asked me if lawyers make a lot, they both love to dream about what they’ll do when we win the lottery, and I’m pretty sure 9-year-old Joey is purposely pulling out teeth to pad his bank account. So when the two of them realized that cash prizes go to the folks who finish first in the 1/2 marathon I’ll be running on February 14, they issued me an assignment: “Mom, you’ve got to win!”
“I just want to finish, not win,” I responded.
“Please, please, please, try to win,” Joey and Danny chanted in tandem.
Here’s the deal: If I finish first in my female age group (35-39), I’ll score $250. Second place gets $150, and third place gets $100. Do I think I can do it? In a word: No. My 10-minute mile just isn’t that competitive, I don’t think. Will I tell my guys this? Nope. I plan to arm them with the fact that I’ll try my very best, that I’ll run like I want to win. I’m sure they’ll see visions of wealth when I tell them this, but what I hope registers in their little-boy brains is that dedication and some good hard work are what really matters.
Money, yea, that would be nice, too.







Of all the skills these two boys have picked up this summer on their baseball teams, batting comes out on top. They both knew virtually nothing about America’s favorite pastime at their first practices and now, they can throw the ball, catch the ball, field the ball and kill. the. ball. with their beautiful and powerful swings. Danny (my Cubs guy) did it the other night during his second-to-last game of the season — it would have been a home run had his first base coach told him to run right away, instead it was a triple — and Joey (Braves) smacks the ball every time he steps up to the plate. He cracked it six times at his last game — and I mean crack. Love that sound.

