I'd hit that point in my adulthood where "the kids" don't always make sense to me and I'd started to wonder if we were all just on a fast train to hell. Or maybe there was a hand basket involved? It definitely wasn't good.

Sure I know some awesome young people who are smart, caring, and kind.

But then I see kids buried in their phones and lacking basic social skills to hold a conversation. Eye contact. Ask a question. You know, the stuff your grandma taught you.

Tide pods.



Maybe I was cool at some point, who knows? But I've hit the "Irrationally upset that those people are late on their HOAs dues" phase. WE DON'T DO FREE RIDES HERE.

Then the guy pushing his life in a shopping cart thought yelling, "You're kinda slow and fat!" was appropriate as we hit the home stretch of an 18 miler a few weeks ago. The mean part of me wanted to yell, "You stole your house from Walmart," but the part where my three feelings still live remembered that sometimes, when someone has nothing to control, making someone else feel like sh*t is a win for them. I wasn't slow enough to search the cart, but since he was young, white, and angry, him not pulling a gun on us was a win.

So the old lady's been a bit down on the youngsters. However, my old friend running saved me once again.

Joey and I rolled out Saturday morning for one of our last long runs before the LA Marathon. It was a nice morning, a bit windy, but 54% humidity, which is damp in Vegas. As we waited at a stop light, we noticed a poor guy pushing a stalled car. All by himself. No one helping push, no one steering.

A couple of teen boys were waiting to cross the same street and I commented, "Is that guy all by himself?"

"Yeah," one said.

"That sucks," I replied and figured I would try to help push once I got across the street.

The boys muttered something to each other and when the light changed, they took off like bats out of hell towards the stalled out car.

"You guys helping him?" I yelled as they blew by me.

"Yep!" they said and hopped into action.

Then a few miles down the road, we ran into a group of high school tracksters out practicing, who were not only polite in sharing the sidewalk, but several made nice comments about Joey.

She beamed.

The kids are alright.