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My Own Little Renaissance

I went for a walk today after work.  I really didn't want to.  I was torn between passing the time before picking up my daughter from soccer practice by (a) stopping at the local taqueria and having a beer or (b) getting. in. my. steps.  
(If you say those last four words like you're the Economics Teacher from Ferris Bueller's Day Off, you will capture something of my feeling about going for a walk.)
But walk I did.  I made the smarter choice.  I'm glad I did, but I'm also struck by just how hard it was to make that choice.  It was, like, super hard.  Like, teenager who can't get out of bed hard.  Like, tween who doesn't want to take a shower hard.  Like, toddler who doesn't want to hold hands across the street or do anything else remotely reasonable hard.  Made me feel very wimpy.
But I digress.  This post isn't about my walk, but about something I've discovered recently, which I was reminded of on my walk.  Here's what I have discovered:

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