I remember in High School declaring I’d always be thin and teasing my father for carrying some weight. Looking back, I’d wouldn’t call my parents overweight, just overworked. Dad didn’t have time to exercise in the traditional sense, but he busted his ass rebuilding the house, working to feed us, and being a great father and husband. At the time, I ran 15 miles a day and looked like the beanstalk Jack climbed. (Uh, a really short beanstalk.) Now, here I am, one ‘kid’ starting college, the other starting Law School, I have a full time job and spend the rest of my time writing. (That’s two full time jobs.) Working out sounds like a great idea, of course, but then so does Starbucks. Needless to say, I look up to my father a lot. I’m still learning from him, and 30 years later, I think I get it.