I felt so bad for her.“Well screw him. He just missed out on something great,” I said.“Well that's really sweet of you Robert, but maybe I'm jus... getting too old now,” Sasha replied.“No, you are only 48, not 68. You still got some good years coming, and if he doesn't wanna be a part of those years, then screw him,” I said.Then I had an idea.“You are already dressed up, how about we go out?” I asked.She smiled and gave me a kiss on the forehead.“I'd like that,” Sasha replied.Then I got ready.. This phase had a cheery ending as we ran through the Wellesley College campus, where dozens of pretty girls screamed encouragement at us. Every now and then a girl would run out and kiss a runner on the cheek. I had scrawled Dad’s nickname for me on my race number in big letters – SKIPPER. I smiled and blew kisses as the Wellesley girls screamed, “Go, Skipper, go!”The downhill from Wellesley led into the third phase, the legendary and infamous Newton hills. They began about mile sixteen and. More

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