Degonade.

Degonade.

Degoniad.

Degoniad.

Although you know what?

One life gives you Degan.

You make Degonade.

And I'm going to make that joke a few times.

Oh.

Ha ha ha ha. H.P. podcraft.com.

Do you guess that being 55 meant that your thighs and your butt were just going to be a little

thicker than you liked.

No matter how much you strode up and down the hills of beautiful San Francisco.

You just had to settle for being tight muscled, but no longer looking at so much.

At least the aerobic high was the same as ever, powering slopes and nice blue flame of oxygen

in your lungs.

She was moving through the upper hate now, aiming to cut across steep Buena Vista Park, thence steeply

down to Divisadero.

Her dear old friend Babs had told her to take a hike that she would mind the store

for the last three hours. A gift Babs offered frequently, indeed too often accepted. She guessed she was having age issues.

Testing and training her strength was a growing concern.

Babs, five years farther along, was helping her through it.

...