I survived my marathon, helped my son adhere hundreds of monster truck stickers to sheets of paper, took my mother to two doctor’s appointments, installed our window ACs, and wrote a few things here and there to boot. In other words, just another month here at Brian Eastwood Writes, LLC. (And I was named Employee of the Month AGAIN!)
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A short, self-published story about an exclusive monster truck experience
Things I Did, Marathon Edition
Finish my 5th consecutive Vermont City Marathon (and 6th marathon since my won was born) within the two-minute time window of 3:24:31 to 3:26:31 (in this case, 3:26:23), which means I’m officially nothing if not consistent
Gather acceptable snacks to share with my son at the finish line, including slices of pizza, Nutri-Grain bars, and the all-important free underripe bananas that are the reason like 73% of marathon runners compete
Wear brand-new compression socks to recover from said marathon because I forgot to pack them and had to purchase a new pair the day before the race
Remember to pack everything else that mattered – including the cowbell than my son shook vigorously while in the hotel room but not (AFAIK) while outside cheering for runners
Adventures in Fatherhood
We completed / survived our first-ever Kid Race, which was a 1/2-mile loop in Burlington, Vermont’s lovely Waterfront Park. We also overcame our pre-race jitters, which were 100% attributable to the presence of mascots in unexpected proximity. We celebrated with pre-packaged trail mix and a sampling from a local ice cream truck.
We also experienced and enjoyed our first-ever roller coaster at a local fundraiser fair, though our favorite part very well may have been the fried dough. (Can’t argue with that.) We decided we didn’t like the teacups – and I learned I can’t handle the teacups as well as I used to – but did like the Ferris wheel (even if the waiting was the hardest part).
Yes, we heard the sonic boom from the meteorite that landed in the middle of Cape Cod Bay. No, we didn’t think anything of it at the time, especially as our neighbors are in the midst of a large renovation project and it hasn’t been uncommon to hear things get loudly dropped into a Dumpster.
Enjoy June and the beginning of summer. We’re gearing up for a pre-summer-vacation trip to Cape Cod , preschool graduation, and a trip to New Hampshire for the Fourth. We’re NOT going to New Hampshire in June because I told a story once about black files and now we’re convinced that’s when there are YUCKY BUGS in our neighbor to the north. I’m sure we’d have fun, as we talk about the YUCKY BUGS while laughing, but between Champy and the teacups, I’ve scarred my son enough for quite some time.
The person in charge of maintaining my work schedule (me) gave me too many longform assignments in late February and early March, while the person in charge of maintaining my running schedule (also me) insisted I remain on track for my marathon on Memorial Day weekend, so (in what is beginning to be a recurring pattern) this post is appearing during the second week of the month.
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Things I Did
Succeeded in getting my mother’s taxes done at the Senior Center in town (thanks, AARP volunteers!)
Went out of my way to participate in a social event (the annual party for the running club I recently joined)
Made Snow Mountain in the front yard amid two significant storms with “help” from my young assistant
Introduced my son to the concept of false spring during a 75-degree day in early March
Adventures in Fatherhood
A recent obsession with couch-cushion forts evolved into destroying said forts. It was determined that the dinosaurs living in the neighborhood should be made aware of the demolition schedule and potential for loud noises. “Be a news reporter,” my son said to me, not realizing just how prepared I would be for the moment. (Lest you think I’m a trombone player in my spare time, I’ve probably worn that fedora a half dozen times since buying it on our honeymoon in 2019 after failing to pack a hat for part of our trip.)
We all went cross country skiing for the first time (at Great Brook in Carlisle). My son took off on us as soon as he was strapped into his skis – which was great, except that neither of us were quite ready to chase him. (Not a bad problem to have, mind you.) We only went once this winter, but I’m pretty sure we’ll want to go again.
We spent quite a bit of time watching the Olympics, in part because it was 15 degrees out the first weekend of the Games. Our favorite sports were biathlon, bobsled, and ski mountaineering. I did not subject my family to watching the 50-kilometer cross country ski races in their entirety. We also really, really got into the ads.
Happy early Pi Day, which is one of the most important days of the year in the Beastwood household (because of pie, not math).
Writing this one amid recovery from my first colonoscopy. As a few people told me, the prep was the most difficult part – in particular, trying to function without eating for close to 30 hours. I don’t know how people do this routinely. (I was ready to fight someone for a sandwich within seven hours of fasting, but it wouldn’t have been a very good fight because I had no energy.) All the more reason to 1) make less invasive options for cancer screening more readily available and 2) make sure people get the food they need.
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Stuff I Did
Got my COVID and flu vaccines
Ran the BayState Marathon in 3:24:31 – the fifth marathon I’ve done since the spring of 2022 within a 2-minute range around 3:25, which if nothing else apparently means I’m consistent
Finally finished reading Barbara Tuchman’s The Proud Tower, which I started roughly a year ago
Started wearing a hat and gloves outside in the morning, which I’ll likely be doing until mid-April
Decorated several pumpkins, none of which stayed on our stoop for more than 48 hours because there are hungry rats in our neighborhood
Dressed as a car for Halloween to complement my son the crossing guard and my wife the crosswalk
Adventures in Fatherhood
The current phrase of the moment is A December to Remember. I initially said this in jest while fruitfully listing the months of the year, as I have no intention of ever buying my wife a Lexus for Christmas (nor does she), but it has since prompted serious conversations about what is and is not practical to give to someone as a holiday gift.
We have resumed the annual cool weather tradition of Family Star Pants, which is when we all wear navy blue pajama pants with white stars. (They’re from Primary; I’d add a link, but they don’t sell these specific pants any more). In an added wrinkle, I was asked to wear them to preschool drop-off. We walked. Did I mention these pants have no pockets?
We made it around the block for trick-or-treating. We’re still young enough to only pick one treat per house – and at half the houses, he picked either toys or candy that he knows other members of the family like. (Papa, for example, likes Peanut M&M’s.)
I made a group of tweens very happy on Halloween night at about 7:30 when I said, “I need your help. It’s time to put my kid to bed, and I want to turn off the porch light. Can you please just take the rest of the candy out of this bowl for me?”
September was about puttin’ the nose to the ol’ grindstone after four weeks of being off more than I was on. I also intentionally worked half days every Monday last month, mostly to ensure I’d have time for my long runs and partly to help ease my way into the work week. (Garfield was right; no one likes Mondays.) Anyway, I have no lovely bylines to share, though I promise I was, in fact, working.
Also … as you may or may not have seen, I decided to start a monthly news roundup. The first post should go live in mid-October. As a result, I’ve decided to switch from Stuff I Read (which will be covered in said newsletter) to Stuff I Did. Is it as exciting? Probably not. Does it matter? Definitely not.
Stuff I Wrote
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Stuff I Did
I’m running the BayState Marathon in a couple weeks, so I devoted a good chunk of my non-working and non-catering-to-every-need-of-a-preschooler time to getting through the most important part of the training cycle. Now it’s taper time, which is when marathon runners rest their bodies and do their best to avoid every germ their children bring home from school.
I started writing to voters in California through Vote Forward. I did a lot of letter-writing while watching playoff baseball, because these days even when the Red Sox are playing I still have brain space left to do other things.
We have already done most of the stereotypical Fall New England Things: Go apple picking, buy several pumpkins, and run the heat and the air conditioning on the same day. (This is equal parts because of the weather and the insulation limitations of a 100-year-old house.) My wife had a pumpkin spice latte. I’ll break out the flannel soon enough.
Adventures in Fatherhood
Speaking of the Red Sox, my son and I went to our first game at Fenway Park back in August. It was roughly 90 degrees, and we lasted an hour. Highlights included the bus ride (we’re lucky enough to not need to take the very crowded Green Line), seeing Wally the Green Monster, and going to Ben & Jerry’s on Brookline Avenue once we decided we were too hot for the ballpark.
The other day, afternoon snack at school was pretzels, which my son doesn’t like. But instead of rejecting it, he asked to save it for me, since he knows I like pretzels. Kids, amirite?
I’ve been able to apply an important lesson in parenting to working with clients. Whenever my son is asking me to get him some milk and also read him a book and oh by the way throw away a soggy tissue, I tell him, “Daddy can only do one thing at a time.” This has helped me make sure I set priorities at work, too.
Happy fall. Happy Halloween. Happy conference season to my health IT friends. Until next time.
I always feel a bit nostalgic just before the beginning of the school year. That’s the time, way back in 1995, when I joined the high school cross country team and started running. (The picture is from junior year, I believe, but what’s a couple years in the 90s among friends?)
I didn’t join the team because I necessarily liked running. I liked sports, particularly basketball and baseball, but those were out of the question after puberty robbed me of most of my hand-eye coordination. Mostly, I did it because I was going to a new school, my parents and I agreed it might be nice to at least recognize some faces in the hallway or in class, and we figured cross country would keep me in shape and out of trouble. It didn’t hurt that cross country wouldn’t turn anyone away and didn’t cut anyone.
The first day of practice, roughly one week before Labor Day and two weeks before school started, was the first time in years I’d committed to running more than one mile at a time. I showed up in cotton shorts, a cotton T-shirt, and high-top basketball shoes. It took at least 45 minutes – not to mention a few walking breaks – to cover the 3.1 miles of my school’s cross-country course.
I showed up the next day, though. And the next day, too. After a couple of weeks, my parents were willing to invest in proper running clothes and shoes. That was just in time for the first meet, in which I placed dead last – 29:45 for the 5K. I was dead last the following week, too, albeit a minute faster.
By the end of the season, I was firmly in the middle of the JV pack. The coach encouraged me to stick around for indoor track, which, in a twist very helpful to the narrative, also didn’t cut anyone. I did – and learned quickly that “indoor” referred to where the meets were held, not the practices. (At least not for the distance runners.) Back to the sporting goods store we went.
Carving my own path
It’s worth noting that, throughout high school, I wasn’t very fast. I’m not being self-deprecating; facts are facts.
It took until senior year to make varsity in cross country (top 7). Even then, by the end of the season at least three freshmen had improved dramatically enough to routinely beat me. (The coach kept me in the No. 7 spot, though, and none of the freshmen complained. I always appreciated that.) Meanwhile, in four seasons of indoor track and four seasons of outdoor track, I scored a point (from finishing in the top 3 for a race) exactly once. It was an indoor track meet sophomore year when I think I was one of maybe 12 kids in the entire conference who wasn’t home sick with the flu. (Get your flu shots, everyone!)
Many friends had plans to run competitively in college. If I remember right, a couple teammates even got scholarships. Meanwhile, I went to art school in the middle of Boston.
But I kept running. Freshman year, I did it on my own, mostly on the paths along the Charles River. Sophomore year was the only time the college had enough interest to form a men’s cross-country team, which I was happy to join.
Before my junior year, and arguably against my better judgment, I signed up for a fall marathon: The 2001 BayState Marathon in Lowell, with a course that wound through my hometown. The mistakes I made are easily recognizable in retrospect. I don’t recall any honest-to-goodness speed or hill workouts, and my long runs topped out at 16 miles. I also waited until – I wish I were kidding – the day before the race to buy a watch. Suffice to say, I hit a wall with about 10 miles to go. My primary memory from the race is leaning against a telephone pole to get some rest.
But I finished – and I kept running. Yes, it would be five years before I did another marathon; my first one scarred me, plus my senior-year and first-job-out-of-college schedules made it hard to commit to training. That said, I squeezed in runs whenever I got the chance and found 5Ks where I could.
Something shifted in 2006, and I started to commit to running at least one marathon a year. Except for COVID (2020) and the birth of my son (2021), I’ve managed to do it – and this year, 30 years after I started running, I’m aiming to do two marathons in one year for the first time in a decade.
Coming back slowly and steadily
To be clear, running hasn’t been all sunshine and roses. I was sidelined for a few weeks in 2000 with runner’s knee, and I’m pretty sure it came back right before my marathon in 2006. In 2015, I tore my calf in the middle of a marathon and, probably against my better judgment, hobbled to the finish line. (This prompted my wife – watching me run for the first time that day – to not-so-subtly wonder if I was always in that much pain.) I needed several weeks to recover, but over time I regained my strength and confidence. Last year, I went nearly two months without running due to pain in my right foot that was eventually diagnosed as Morton’s neuroma – the treatment for which is orthotic shoes and a dose of humility. Here, patience and pragmatism aided my recovery more than anything.
Recently, I found myself briefly stepping away from running for reasons that had nothing to do with physical health. In September 2023, roughly two weeks before I planned to run BayState – and mark the first time in eight years I ran a marathon in the spring and the fall – my father passed away. I did a speed workout a couple days later, asked myself what the hell I was doing, and promptly took 10 days off. I did that same thing that Christmas, when the weight of simultaneously celebrating and mourning left me far too fatigued to run.
My most recent stretches without running – the mental health breaks in 2023 and the wow, my foot hurts break in 2024 – were tests that I’m happy to say I feel like I passed. I think I learned a lot from 2015, when I was under orders from my physical therapist not to run (but nonetheless stay active) for nearly two months, and to take it slowly once I started back. The wisdom of fatherhood, middle age, and running a business probably helped, too. I didn’t lace up the ol’ running shoes until I was good and ready – and that ensured I actually enjoyed the experience.
Keeping at it, for many reasons
Most of the time, I have little trouble understanding why I’m still running after 30 years. After all, distance running suits my body type, desire for long stretches of quiet time, appetite, pain tolerance, and stubborn perseverance. Few people who meet me for the first time are surprised to learn I’m a runner.
Occasionally, though, I can’t help but wonder. When I head out the door in the pouring rain, after my son’s bedtime, on days so cold that only my face is exposed to the elements, or during a family vacation, I sometimes ask myself, “Why, Brian? Why?”
Part of it is probably the sense of accomplishment. It’s estimated that roughly 1% of the global population has completed a marathon; fewer have done more than 20. I’m proud to be able to say that – and to say that I’m still going. Honestly, I think the fact I wasn’t all that fast in high school helped my cause here. I never faced pressure or experienced burnout. I’m only chasing my own goals and aspirations, not someone else’s. (The free post-race bananas and bagels help.)
Pride plays a part, too. On those rough days – like this morning, when I did a hill workout in what felt like 98% humidity – I think about that 15-year-old in black high-top basketball shoes, showing up on the first day of practice with little clue about what he was getting into. I think about the 21-year-old toeing the line for his first marathon, with absolutely no clue about what he was getting into. I think about the handful of times I missed qualifying for Boston by just a few minutes, and also the time in 2012 I bonked so badly I seriously contemplated curling up for a nap on a front lawn along the cource. (I didn’t. Again, in keeping with the narrative, I kept going and I finished.) I think about when I finally qualified for Boston in 2015, on my 12th try, and had the privilege of running that race the following spring. I think about the first-time father who plodded through a handful of miles while his infant napped or his in-laws kept watch and tried to maximize family time by deciding to wedge his runs into the work week. I look back on the past versions of myself and think he’d be proud I’m still doing it at 45.
Lately, too, I think about my son. I’m not sure he fully understands why I run, or why I run races so long that he and Mommy more often than not get bored and go do something else while they wait for me to finish. (I don’t blame them.) But I know he wants to give me a hug, see my medal, and share a banana when I finally finish. He may not be able to explain the concept of pride, but I get the impression he’s proud of Daddy. And that helps to keep pushing me along, too.
I’ve had an interesting few months. I finally bit the bullet, upgrading my website and selecting a hosting provider. The former was a good idea, and long overdue, as it let me set up a store where I could get rich selling digital content. The latter turned out not to be such a good idea since 1) it somehow managed to create a second WordPress log-in for me and 2) said log-in was linked to me staging site, not my actual website.
This meant the blog posts I created on what I thought was my existing website were in fact on the new version, which is also were I happened to create the product page for my eBook (which I also happened to edit and design over the course of the spring).
For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how to get the new blog posts – namely, the April and May roundups you’ve come to know and love, or at the very least tolerate – to appear on the page that listed all the blog posts. That seemed like kind of a big deal. There were also some quirky tweaks to my new (or maybe existing?) website that weren’t the best, and it wasn’t clear whether they were the result of the site migration or user error.
As a result, I scrapped the hosting plan and stuck with a Business version of my old WordPress site. I didn’t lose any necessary functionality, and I didn’t end up spending more. What I’d been paying for the hosting service basically now pays for a business email address, with the added bonus that it’s not Webmail, which as far as I can tell no one actually likes.
The issue – and this is where it gets interesting, folks – is that I decided to do this a few days after I launched my eBook, which meant to link to it was dead. It also meant the April and May roundups disappeared, along with my heartfelt look back at five years of full-time freelancing. I was able to repost the eBook product page (which was easy enough to rewrite) and the career retrospective (which I’d drafted in Word), and I managed to rewrite the blog post introducing the eBook to the world.
That said, I didn’t bother redoing the roundups. To be blunt, I didn’t feel like it. Plus, the list of Stuff I Read was a bit short, and my Adventures in Fatherhood were a bit repetitive, redundant, and repetitive.
So, instead, I present to you, my loving audience, a quarterly roundup. This includes links to everything published in the last three months, along with some fun tales of raising a child that I may or may not have shared with you already.
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Dang, this list looks a lot more impressive when it covers three months instead of one, doesn’t it?
Adventures in Fatherhood
Over Memorial Day weekend, I ran a marathon in Burlington, Vermont. The course was two Figure-8 loops. All told, I went through downtown Burlington four times. This meant I ran up the hill on Main Street four times. My wife told my son this was a mean thing to make the runners do. She wasn’t wrong – and for the next two weeks, my son, who has entered the phase of asking so, so many questions – humored me a few times a day by asking, “Why did the marathon do a mean thing to the runners?”
Meanwhile, over Fourth of July weekend in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, my son was introduced to the idea that Daddy attracts mosquitos almost immediately upon going outside. (Don’t ask me why. They always have.) He then proceeded to humor us by repeatedly saying, “The bugs love Daddy.”
We’ve recently discovered store-bought frozen water- and fruit-based confections. This is lovely – but, as my son prefers to eat approximately three bites of things before declaring, “All done,” it also means at any given time there are at least two unfinished treats in the freezer. That also means there are often at least two child-sized bowls or plates in the freezer, which is a challenge when, say, we arbitrarily decide the Cheerios need their own bowl.
With any luck, I’ll get back to monthly posts starting in August, just in time for everyone to stop caring about work until Labor Day.
Well, the New Year kicked off without much of a hitch, and then some sort of lovely crud hit our household at the end of January. Luckily, none of us were sick for more than a couple days – apparently vaccines work??!? – though it was enough to throw off the ol’ schedule I made up for myself to publish these posts and keep the masses happy. So it goes.
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Updates on Goals
Still working on the eBook, though the first draft is finished now. Haven’t gotten started on the new website. Did book a sitting for new headshots. Now need to get a haircut – and the cash to pay for it.
Running was going quite well until first my son and then I came down with whatever cold/flu we had. Hot sauce consumption has sadly levelled of, though I imagine it might help with the congestion. Or hurt. On second thought…
Stuff I Read
When I wasn’t getting equal parts frustrated and sad about the state of our country, I came across a not-terribly-scientific “study” suggesting Boston is the best U.S. city for introverts. This is based on our proliferation of libraries, coffee shops, and hybrid jobs. Add to that my favorite hobbies (running and hiking) and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more closely aligned to a stereotype or a place.
Adventures in Fatherhood
Lately, my son has gotten into just randomly saying “potty,” as one does. My response is to pretend he said “party,” loudly ask “IS IT PARTY TIME?” and then dance like the awkward middle-aged white man that I am. He does not like that.
Also, he would like you to know I am a Bad Dad. Why? On three (3) successive evenings, I got the temperature of the bath water wrong. On the upside, we now have a new favorite funny word: Lukewarm. “It’s when your friend Luke isn’t hot.”
We have discovered the Museum of Science in Boston – specifically, the room with the rotating exhibit. For the holidays, there was a model train, which of course we went to see more than once. Our aim in going back? “I want to see what’s where the trains were.” It helps that the cafeteria sells ice cream and croissants and has a view of the Red Line.
Happy February, everyone. In between your sneezes, keep fighting.
I’m embracing a bit of a different format this month, partly to keep y’all on your toes as January begins and partly to hold myself accountable for the things I hope to accomplish in 2025.
Professional Goals for the Year Ahead
Make this a Big Boy Website. I created this site several years ago but did about 86% of the work on it in the first week of April 2020, when I decided to use being laid off as an excuse to try full-time freelancing. It’s due for a refresh and, more importantly, I think I’m ready for a Big Boy Corporate Email Address, too.
Finish the eBook that’s been 18 months in the making. Remember that blog post I wrote about telehealth’s day of reckoning back in April 2023? A few of you said it was good enough, with some additions and updates, to be an eBook. Well, I’m taking y’all up on that. Let’s see what happens.
Stick to what I do best. It’s not all sunshine and roses up here. I had a few projects go sideways in 2024. A few factors were at play in each case, but one thing that unified them all was a focus outside of what I think I do best: Healthcare, healthcare tech, and executive leadership. If I decide to take on more work, I’m going to be very particular about it.
Personal Goals for the Year Ahead
Be more systematic about running. After taking about two months off to recover from Morton’s neuroma in my right foot, I finished the year strong. I hit my time goals and snagged a couple age group prizes in some lovely little suburban races. More importantly, I found shoes (and insoles) that work and settled into a good rhythm. If all goes well, this might be the first year since 2015 I manage a marathon in the spring AND the fall.
Be as good a person as my kid things I am. I’m at the great stage where my son, at three and a half, wants nothing more than to hang out with me and do what I do. I hope other people will feel the same way. At the same time, I need to make sure that being there for him and with him doesn’t drain me emotionally. I can’t be afraid to take a break here and there.
Eat more hot sauce. My wife gave some really good hot sauce for Christmas. It was delicious. I see no reason not to have more.
Adventures in Fatherhood
You may recall that I taught my son the emblematic Boston phrase “bang a U-ey.” Now, whenever we see a sign prohibiting U-turns, he screams “DON’T BANG A U-EY!” He’s quite proud of himself, though he hasn’t fully grasped the linguistics of the phrase and believes “bang a” is one word, like the city in Maine.
We recently had the following exchange. “Daddy, I love you!” “Aw, I love you too. That makes me feel special.” “I love the songs you sing.” “I’m glad. Do you even love the silly ones I sing?” “I love the songs you sing on your phone.” (Dear reader, that would be the YouTube videos of children’s songs that we play at 10- to 15-minute intervals a few times a day.)
Happy January, everyone. I’ll return to the regular format next time, since I know everyone’s chomping at the bit to read something with my name at the top.
October was a strange month in the Boston area. We had to rush order a new winter jacket in time for unexpected 40-degree days, and now it’s 80 degrees on Halloween. On the upside, the cold snap helped us convince our son that wearing Crocs with socks every day is less than ideal.
(Picking up on last month’s theme, we’re a divided household on Crocs: My son loves them, my wife likes them, and I abhor them. It’s everything not to like about sandals coupled with everything not to like about shoes. Why would you do that to yourself? Why?)
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Tabs I Kept Open
Fierce Healthcare posted a piece looking at the limited gains of the CMS Acute Hospital Care at Home initiative. As I noted on Twitter, this didn’t surprise me in the least. The program’s enrollment parameters are so narrowly written that it’s nearly impossible to scale a program to the point that it achieves any sort of savings. And, as Health Affairs pointed out a couple years ago, it’s also the sort of program that only works at larger hospitals.
Avoidable ED visits are a dominant theme in all things digital health, care coordination, value-based care, payment reform, consumer choice, etc. As I learned doing some research for a client, though, there’s no consensus on how many ED visits are in fact avoidable. I came across a 2017 paper noting estimates range from less than 5% to roughly 90%. The paper concluded that only 3.3% of ED visits are in fact avoidable, on the grounds that the vast majority do, in fact, require diagnostic or screening services, medications, or medical procedures. What many would call “avoidable” visits are, in fact, necessary for the patient at the time. Old research, yes, but interesting food for thought.
I did less reading this month because I was writing letters to voters. Go vote, for cryin’ out loud.
Adventures in Fatherhood
This month, I unlocked a key Suburban Dad Achievement. I ran outside in flip flops and got the garbage can to the curb right as the truck was pulling up in front of the house.
Some days, your kids play 4D chess to try to get get what they want. Some days, they grab the ice cream scoop out of the drawer at 6:45 a.m. when you’re trying to make breakfast and say, roughly, “THIS IS AN ICE CREAM SCOOP. I WANT ICE CREAM.” We didn’t have ice cream that day, so a couple days later, we got ice cream as part of our regularly scheduled grocery store trip. I will let you guess whether he actually liked the ice cream.
I hope everyone has a good November. May you get seconds of your favorite side dish at Thanksgiving. I’m running my first race since coming back from my self-induced foot injury. Hopefully there are bananas at the end, as that’s really why my son comes to these things in the first place.
Little bit behind on this one. I took separate trips to Maine in August – one alone to hike in western Maine, the other with the family to Acadia National Park, mostly to eat ice cream and look at the ocean – so the days before Labor Day were devoted to meeting end-of-month deadlines and catching up on laundry. (We’re almost there!)
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Tabs I Kept Open
A survey from consultancy Innsena found only 14% of health tech journalists attend speaking sessions at conferences. I have so many thoughts about this. I always found these sessions far more valuable than panels stacked with executives who’d been rehearsing their talking points for months. And while I enjoy networking and taking meetings, it seems odd to hop on a plane and book a hotel room to chat with someone when Zoom exists.
Our preschool door code is a series of numbers followed by #. Kiddo doesn’t know the word for #, but he knows it looks like something you may eat for breakfast. So whenever I enter the door code, he screams “WAFFLE!” as I press #. (This is when he’s not just pressing a random number to mess it up on purpose, which he finds funny.)
Whenever we have waffles, kiddo offers to pour maple syrup into a small bowl, as we’re a “tear and dip into syrup” household. He usually pours way too much – it’s equal parts “still developing fine motor skills” and “eyes are bigger than stomach.” Like any self-respecting dad, I pour the rest into my coffee. It’s quite good. Vermont is on to something.
My favorite thing to do when we go to the grocery store is narrate the experience. It keeps us both occupied and takes our attention away from stuff I’d rather not have him plop in the cart. Recently, I needed to turn around and introduced him to the very Boston phrase “bang a U-ey” (make a U-turn). Several people laughed. I call that a victory.
Fun personal update: I’m running again! After taking a couple months off to nurse what looked like a stress fracture in my right foot and felt like plantar fasciitis, I was in fact diagnosed with Morton’s neuroma. No surgery and no boot – just a shift to shoes with a lot more support and a slow road back to where I was before.
That’s all for now. May September be good to you, whether it’s the beginning of school, fall conference season, or being able to actually turn off the AC here and there.
