Leaving cranky behind

It’s Monday morning, 5:22 a.m.  7 degrees here in Brooklyn. The Jets lost. If I had any sense at all, I’d still be cranky. I might even be crankier.

But the weekend offered perspective. Hours of research into the weekend post on the Toboggan – its history, the horses and connections who’ve won it, the storied tracks at which it’s been run – was an excellent tonic to the vitriol in which I found myself steeped last week...