I’ve always liked the number thirteen, primarily because it’s been given such a hard time. Friday the thirteenth has never done me wrong. The thirteenth day of most months (when I pay attention to the calendar) is usually just fine.
But the number two has played an interesting role in my life and deserves it’s moment to shine.
My first address in my own San Francisco apartment: 2222 22nd Avenue
The first baby I ever loved (Marcus my nephew) born: 11/22
My daughters’ birthday: 11/22 (God’s work that they were born on the same date, nine years apart)
Number of siblings I grew up with: two
Number of birth siblings I discovered last year: two
Days until race: two
Marathon: Twenty six point two
Two is on the line for numero uno in my heart.
Let’s hope that last point two doesn’t mess it all up considering the state I’ll (surely) be in with the finish line in sight.
Only thirteen is hoping otherwise.