Metropolis

In what seems to me like a never ending quest to get a PhD, Bill lives in a sprawling metropolis during summers. You can see how the crowds of people rush to cross the street when George Bailey tells them.

First person to guess what town he goes to school in gets a virtual high-five from me. Here's a hint: Take the Pennsylvania turnpike untily you are in the middle of nowhere. Then go north for about 90 minutes.

I am out here until Wednesday morning when I have to wake up at the crack and make a mad dash back to Philadelphia to get to work before noon. Fun times.

Fortunately there's a small but fun trail network within running distance of his apartment and a state park about 20 minutes away where we are going to run later today so all is not lost. Plus there's a small running store across the street from his place called The Gingerbread Man. The store's motto? "You can't catch me." How adorable is that?

Unlike the rest of his cohort (why, when you you get to the PhD level,
must you call your class a cohort?) Bill shows up for school ready to paddle.

When I saw him yank a carbon paddle out of his trunk I became concerned that he truly has his heart set of us crossing the start line (and, I guess, he hopes that we will also cross the finish line) of this. I think he might be trying to kill me with exercise. It will be, by far, the longest race I've ever tried. Two nights in the woods -- I am more worried about the fact that I love sleep immensely than I am about the fact that I am not sure if I can keep moving for 48 hours.

P.S. Yes, Bill does live above the county's GOP headquarters. But he also lives above a bakery so it all evens out.