Lisa's Journal - my hero in pink sweat pants

Every morning at 8 am -- and I mean EVERY morning be it rain, snow, hail, whatever -- there is a white-haired woman running down our street. I place her as a septuagenarian, at least. She wears bubble-gum pink sweatpants and an orange vest, with black gloves when it's cold. She "runs" probably about the same pace I walk when I'm late to class. It would take her all day to finish a marathon, but I don't doubt that she could. I've never talked to this woman, but I am officially declaring her my new hero. I'm sure some people think she is crazy (maybe she is), but I genuinely admire her. She is brave (no one else goes running in sub-zero windchills), she is beautiful (frizzy white hair has a certain majestic beauty to it), she is strong (no osteoporosis for her, thanks), and she is definitely disciplined. If I've managed those virtues when I'm half her age, I'll consider myself a success.