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Camping at IHOP

"We need to take this, ok?"

The nighttime receptionist didn't know what to say. I had just grabbed the poinsetta plant from her desk and before she could reply we were already halfway to the door.

"Well, I guess..."

The Race

There's a race going on, but it's not an ordinary marathon. First of all, it's not a mere twenty six point two miles long. We don't know how long it is because we can't see that far; no one has been to the end of the course yet. And, really, it's more of a relay race than a marathon. The entire history of mankind has been running it, passing the baton to future generations. And now the baton has been passed to us, and we're on the course.

Even though we're all entered into the race-- every single one of us-- not all of us are running. Some people are sitting on the side of the road. As you run by, you can see them, staring at the sky with a glazed over look, completely oblivious of the honor that has been passed down to them.