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I planned to write four columns for four Twins games attended in eight days, but I got stuck after running Fifteen's 5K before the last game and ended up skipping the game and staying home. The Twins lost, but my experience running into Target Field and getting closer Glen Perkins to sign my medal thrilled me enough to make me forget my favorite team's woes. Still, I felt like I owed y'all that last blog entry, to justify my shameless and unabashed promotion of my novel Orphans (in paperback and on Kindle!). Then the Twins kept losing, and if you don't have anything nice to say . . .Alisha Perkins already wrote something about people who don't say nice things. My friend Cindy and I discussed it on the 5K, and then we high-fived Alisha herself as we crossed the finish line. Cindy looked much tougher closing out that race than my winded, sweat-covered self did. I stood on Target Field and smiled, very content, and found myself in desperate need of large amounts of breakfast foods. Alisha wrote about the on-line crap her husband was taking for suffering a string of bad luck games. Her calm explanation of working through adversity is clear and worth reading. I'm always surprised when I see articles listing the attack tweets people have had to endure. When they start looking like plastic-sealed evidence from a crime show about serial killers, I start to wonder about my fellow Americans. Part of one line stuck with me, though: Alisha writes, "The cyber-bullying fad in America needs to stop . . ." For the most part, I believe I've been more of a cyber-smartass than a cyber-bully, but I'd have to let others be the judge of the effects of my actions instead of just the intentions. That said, I've tossed out a few mean tweets in the process of being funny. I used to assume the rich, famous, or Internet-famous read these pop culture quips and digs as if they were just lines in a movie where they already knew they would save the day. I started to let go of this attitude when I saw how quickly and viciously Internet users are willing to cross a line of social comfort for a quick bit of approval or attention - myself most definitely included. Once I saw how many death threats were tossed about, wrapped in a "just kidding" envelope," I worked to keep my online interactions sensible enough I would communicate them to the person in question in their own living room. Go through my Twitter feed and I have no doubt you'll find some times I've violated this rule, but I do try. So after this grown-up rant, I have to confess I understand the desire to rip some stranger from the top of the hill all the way down to the bottom. When you see a ballplayer as superhuman, you feel like you can tear them up, bit by bit, and it doesn't matter. Work might suck, your family might hate your guts, and your lumpy tummy might be pouring over your belt buckle (and here you see one of the reasons for running that 5K), but everybody can pick on the guy on the mound when the baseballs go straight from his hand to a lucky fan's bookshelf. We all know that guy, and we figure he can take it. If you think this sounds like the kind of bullcrap children are capable of flinging, I'm right there with you. After all, I honed my meanness on a steady diet of jealousy for others talents, fear of taking chances, and frustration about all of my own mistakes. Do any of us ever really grow out of that? Alisha, I read your column a couple of times (and I'd offer to call you and personally read you Orphans as you run, for your new book on tape), I think you do your best work against it when you write about things like anxiety, pain and frustration in a way that shows bravery and empathy. As a running trainee, reading your stuff makes me feel more normal about my frustrations. I especially like it when you stand at the end of 5Ks and cheer yourself senseless for a (slightly less) chubby guy running slowly but not quitting. After all, there's no need to attack someone else online when you're proud of what you accomplished and someone showed kindness and paid attention when you met your goal. -- Axel Kohagen Click here to view the article