18 Days until the Falmouth Road Race. I am spending all of my energy on two things. I'm praying for a cool, cloudy day and calculating how long it will take me to do the 7.2 miles with my strategy of running downhill and walking uphill. I am hopeful that somewhere in the 1:45 to 2:00 range will work. Otherwise, the 'rescue bus' will have to pick me up and take me to the finish line.

I know I won't be the oldest person running this race, but I will be in the oldest category. That's enough to make me feel proud that I still have it, whatever 'it' is.

I know this might sound strange to some people, but I am really grateful to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation for including me on their team. You might say, 'but, you're raising money for them, why are you grateful?'

I've always been a 'cause' guy. For most of my life I have been a volunteer for a cause. I had been so impressed with the individuals and companies dedicated to CF, I knew almost immediately it was where I wanted to transfer my energy and efforts.

Since I have become involved, I'm even more impressed with the research and the results that include a real impact on the lives of those affected.

Elijiah has been an inspiration for me since I started, and I actually met him in person in North Carolina last year. I'm running for him and all the others who fight CF, because they are real troopers.

Last week my wife, Betty, and I celebrated our 51^st Wedding Anniversary. An achievement that I never planned or even thought of when we were married right out of college. 

The girl of my dreams and I had old-fashioned experiences between our first date and our wedding, and I think that confirmed to us that we were meant to be together. 

Last year, for the big 5-0, my son organized a surprise anniversary party for us and we knew that 51 would be low key by comparison.

As a quick recall for new readers, we also celebrate our first date each year (August 24, and you can read the story August 20^th when I publish it again, as I do every year).

On the legendary first date at the Top of the Campus bar at UMass, I ‘bribed’ a server, who happened to be in an English class with me, to serve my date an alcoholic beverage even though said date was not 21 at the time. We then drove deep into the woods in Holyoke to dine at a restaurant that we later learned had burned down. But that night, deep in the woods, I was clearly a creepy guy telling a bullshit story to a nervous date. We turned around, went to McDonald’s and never kissed on that date. Each year we go back to McDonald’s in memory of the event, and kiss.

There are a couple of memorable events or incidents during our dating history of less than two years that I remember vividly, none more so than one that featured a bag of groceries, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Memory 1: A New Nickname

One of the things we both remember was I had a fraternity brother who was a horse racing junkie. Since UMass was less than an hour from Hinsdale Harness Raceway in New Hampshire, a group of us regularly piled into a car and headed up there to have some fun, and of course, lose some money.

The first race of the season, on our first trip, there was a horse running called ‘Fly Fly Betty’ and since Betty was my new girlfriend’s name, I bet on the horse, but she did not win.

The next day I brought the betting slip to show my future spouse my commitment to ‘Betty.' I'm sure she was impressed but was hiding it. In a fraternity, nicknames are the rule rather than the exception, and as a result of this situation, she had received a new nickname from the brothers: “Fly, Fly, Betty.” ,It was shortened to “Fly Fly,” and eventually ended up as simply “Fly.”  Our wedding matches memorialized the nickname.

Memory 2: A Different Type of Bunny

That Halloween, my fraternity had a costume party. My wife happened to have a Playboy Bunny costume that she had worn at a prior party, and I decided that I would go as a Bunny. 

What enhanced the costume was that prior to the party I had a bushy, and I mean bushy mustache, that I shaved off for the event. I also afro-ed my naturally curly hair. And believe it or not, I shaved my legs. 

Remember, I had decent legs since I was a soccer player and was used to having my ankles shaved to be wrapped, so mid-calf to top of thigh was no big deal for me.

I can’t say I was hot, but from behind, with the bunny tail, the afro, the legs, I was hot enough for a couple of my fraternity brothers to express interest until they saw my face. 

Memory 3: Where No Man Has Gone Before

She remembers this much better than I do, but allegedly on the day that we were to go to downtown Amherst to pick out the engagement ring, I made her wait until a Star Trek rerun was over at 4 pm. Not sure exactly why she remembers it so clearly and regularly reminds me about it.

I’m also not sure why it took me so long to propose. I told her about two weeks after our second date that I was going to marry her. She shrugged. I asked for her hand in marriage about a year after we started dating. (And, of course, I also asked her father-I told you it was an old-time experience).

Memory 4: Tough Times in Amherst

The following spring, I dropped out of school. Several friends and I had started a marketing business that didn’t do well. 

We ended up living in a motel and pooling our limited resources to scratch through the rent, food, and other. It was a two-room space: we had a large sleeping room off the living room with four beds and no privacy.  

At about the same time, my future wife moved back home, and believe it or not, before the internet and mobile phones, we wrote love letters, sometimes in the form of Hallmark Cards, to each other every week. (She still has some). We also visited each other once in a while, but not every week, and not for very long.

She was working near her home, I was struggling to stay afloat, and there wasn’t a lot of time for fun and games.

There was one particularly rough week for the four guys living at the Amherst motel. We weren’t exactly trapping squirrels behind the building for food, but close. 

My future wife came to visit for the day, and when it was time for her to go, we kissed goodbye, and she drove away. Later, when I went to go out, there were bags of groceries outside the front door to the room. 

She’d gone to the Stop and Shop and bought us much needed food before heading back to home.

When I saw the food and thought of the kind of person who would do that, I knew for certain that she was a class act. 

She was not only beautiful on the outside but on the inside as well.

51 years later, the beauty still shines. Yes, I’m a lucky guy.